#his worst fear confirmed...getting left behind

[blowingoffsteam2]

Thinking about Riku overhearing the dock scene again

[fangswbenefits]

Side Effect

Summary: Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Feral Miguel. Rutting Miguel (side effect of the serum he takes). HEAVY breeding kink. Creampie. Fangs. Hormonal manipulation (mention of serums being injected).

You paced hurriedly through the long corridors of HQ determined to get an answer.

A proper one.

If Miguel O’Hara was growing tired of your casual relationship with him, he’d have to tell that to your face instead of avoiding you.

This had been going on for a couple of days, and you patience was now hanging by a thread. You had tried to reach him through your watch, but he’d either ignore you, or have Lyla come up with ridiculous excuses.

“Visiting Peter and MJ my ass,” you grumbled under you breath, your paces echoing loudly.

The moment you were met with the lab door shut, you stopped dead in your tracks.

That was weird.

“What?”

Approaching the scanner on the wall, you reached out your arm, allowing the sensor to read your dimensional travel watch.

<ACCESS DENIED>

That was really weird.

You flicked your wrist again, but were met with the same message.

This had to be Miguel’s poor idea of a joke, because it made no sense that he’d restrict your access to the very place you worked at.

Letting out a strained breath, you tapped on your watch, hoping to reach Miguel.

But it was Lyla’s orange hologram that emerged instead.

“What’s up, sugar?” she beamed happily, filing her nails.

You scowled. “I was calling Miguel.”

“He has redirected every contact to me,” she shrugged, checking each nail individually.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why can’t I get in?”

“That’s classified.”

“Classified?”

She nodded with an obnoxious smile that only served to grind your nerves. “I work here.”

“So does Miguel and he is working now,” she said with another shrug.

Anger flared inside you as your worst fears were confirmed.

He was avoiding you in particular.

“Can you just open the door?”

“No.”

“Please?”

Her eyes narrowed behind her heart-shapped glasses. “No.”

“I really need to talk to him.”

Adjusting her long coat, she clicked her tongue. “I can pass him a message.”

That wasn’t good enough and he would just ignore it as usual.

“Lyla…” you started, putting on your most convincing fake smile with an equally forced sweet voice to match. “You know I’ve always like you, right?”

The AI scoffed. “Nah, flattery doesn’t work on me, sugar. It wasn’t programmed into my coding,” she grinned deviously. “But you’re free to suggest that Miguel adds it in a future patch.”

You shot her a death glare. “Fine. Just… tell him I’m here and… yeah…” your voice trailed off.

She winked. “Gotcha!”

The hologram disappeared at once and you were left staring at the large metal door in front of you.

You waited for a couple of minutes, before realising she wasn’t coming back with an answer, as you had expected.

A random thought crossed your mind when your eyes landed on the scanner, reminding you that there was another way in.

Miguel would probably get really angry that you were about to activate the emergency protocol, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

Tapping the pattern onto the pad above the scanner, you couldn’t help but to feel victorious as the door swung open, alarms blaring and a mechanical voice echoing through the lab.

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

You only made it a few steps past the door, before something — or rather someone — flung you across the room with the weight of their body keeping you pinned against a wall.

A muscled forearm was at your throat, effectively caging you in.

“What the fuck?”

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

The red alarm lights rotated hurriedly on the ceiling, but you were able to identify Miguel, as his weight dug further into you.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, the eyes on his mask narrowing menacingly.

Something wasn’t right.

Your spider senses detected an alarming accelerated heart rate from him, as well as increased body temperature.

“Miguel, let go! It’s me,” you grunted, clawing at his arm to alleviate the pressure.

“I know it’s you,” he said lowly, the digital mask vanishing.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him baring his fangs, droplets of paralysing poison dripping.

His pupils were fully blown and you felt fear rise inside you. “What are you doing?!”

As if your voice had managed to snap him out of it, he eased the pressure on you and took a few steps back.

“Lyla, deactivate the emergency protocol and resume the serum synthesis.”

“Got it, Miguel!”

The alarm was turned off immediately and silence took place.

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Was he that angry that he had gone completely feral?

“Miguel… what…”

He turned his back on you and paced to a nearby centrifuge, the screen atop announcing: <DNA stabilising sequence at 24%>

What was he doing?

“Leave.”

“Can we just talk?” you said, still keeping your distance. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but barring my access-“

Miguel turned around to face you, a deep scowl had settled on his face, twisting his lips.

The glare he gave you was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I need you gone. Now.”

Fuck. Was he that over you that he couldn’t even stand your presence around?

He had shortened the distance between you two, crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Why? If you don’t want to be with me just say that,” you groaned in frustration. “Don’t stare at me like you’re about to split me in half. It won’t work.”

Miguel had effectively managed to have your back hit the nearby wall once more, just from the weight of his stare alone.

“I told you to leave. I can’t have you around me.”

“Oh, great!” you scoffed. “Thanks for being so direct.”

Miguel didn’t stop moving until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t. We’re both adults, so you could have just said this a couple of days ago instead of acting like I’m some nuisance.”

His hand came to grip your jaw and you widened your eyes. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“What…”

He took a deep breath, fangs grazing his lower lip. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Wait… was he scared that he might have knocked you up?

His fingers loosened and he pressed his forehead to the wall right beside your head, groaning out loud.

“Miguel… what is going on?”

You wanted to him a comfort squeeze on his arm, but were too frozen to move.

“Why… why do you have to be on birth control?”

Was he pulling your leg? Was this his twisted version of a joke?

This time, you frowned. “What do you mean why? I don’t want to get unexpectedly pregnant.”

Miguel punched the wall with such force it dented the material and making you jolt.

“I’m rutting.”

Your eyes darted to his face as he straightened up, pupils still dilated and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

“What… rutting?” you asked, mouth dropping open in confusion.

He growled impatiently. “Side effect of my serum. I usually have an antidote at hand when this happens, but I ran out of one of the components…” he paused briefly as if struggling to breath properly. “I had to go to Peter B’s Earth to get more.”

Oh. So that hadn’t been one of Lyla’s ridiculous lies.

You glanced over at the nearby screen:

<DNA stabilising sequence at 34%>

Oh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” you asked, wanting to bring him some comfort somehow. “We’ve been together for a few months.”

“It was never necessary. I always had the neutraliser for my serum at hand.”

You bit your lip.

He let out a low dark chuckle. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to breed you.”

This definitely wasn’t something you were expecting to hear from Miguel O’hara himself, and it made your heart skip a beat.

His arms were caging you, his talons digging deep into the metal right next to your head.

“Is… huh… is there anything I can do?” you asked in a whisper. “I mean… in the lab.”

He pressed his lower half into you at once. “Let me breed you.”

You flinched as his hard cock dug into your crotch and you let out a gasp.

“Can’t you just wait for the synthesis to be over?”

The sound of the metal being shredded tore through your ears and his lips nearly brushed yours. “I told you to leave, but you’re too stubborn, aren’t you?”

His breath was hot and you felt goosebumps rise throughout your body.

“Always running that mouth,” he growled, eyes landing on your lips. “Always defying me… and now I really, really need to breed you.”

For some twisted reason, his words and cock twitching against you were slowly swallowing your mind, causing you to abandon reason.

Miguel was a very dedicated lover, but you had never witnessed such yearning from him.

That was a novelty and it was doing wonders to your ego.

Even if there was a scientific explanation, you could help but plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You can’t breed me… I’m on birth control.”

His hand came to grip your chin again and you saw anger flicker in his eyes. “There’s ways around that.”

Your eyes widened.

He wasn’t being serious…

… was he?

“Miguel…”

The grip tightened and he rolled his hips. “Let me. Please.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. He had developed a serum that would neutralise all hormonal manipulation as a way to reset your body in case a spider needed to be injected with a serum.

You had helped him develop it.

Its efficacy neared 90%.

You guessed this neutraliser wasn’t able to prevent the side effects from his very specific serum.

And now he wanted to use it on you, so he could successfully breed you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not sure why agreeing to this in the first place was sending such an adrenaline rush through your veins.

Miguel moved away from you, bolting to one of the desks, rummaging through the drawers.

You swallowed hard, but remained glued to the wall, heart hammering fast in your chest.

<DNA stabilising sequence at 41%>

In a blink of an eye, he was on you again, holding the syringe in his trembling hand. “I’m desperate, but I need your words first.”

You clenched and felt wetness spilling from you.

How was this so arousing?

“What words?”

He moved to place a quivering kiss to your forehead and you saw the liquid wobble inside the container.

“That’s… not the compound we synthesised.”

“It’s more than that,” he said with another kiss. “It stimulates your ovaries.”

Oh… fuck.

He trailed kisses down your face, before pecking your lips. “I have to breed you. Successfully.”

Your legs nearly gave out at his confession and you nearly moaned as he ripped your suit to gain access to your bicep.

“Tell me I can do this.”

His cock was nudging you again as a reminder of his desire, and you nodded.

“No. Say it.”

He was rubbing your skin with his thumb right where he intended to inject the serum.

“Go ahead.”

“Gracias,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your forehead.

At this point, you were far too drunk in lust to think clearly and your lips parted in a pained moaned as you felt a sharp jab in your arm. He kept his lips on you as reassurance, as the liquid tore through your muscle.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed straight away.

You felt your knees buckle under you, but Miguel steadied you with both arms. “I got you.”

A gasp quickly turned into a moan as the effect of the serum consumed you with each passing second.

He trailed his hands down your body and gripped your hips.

“Turn around.”

You let him guide you, biting down hard on your lower lip, you panties sticking to your soaked folds.

More ripping sounds filled the air as Miguel tried to get rid of your suit, exposing your underwear to him.

You balled your fists and felt one hand on your lower back, adding light pressure. “Bend over.”

Doing as commanded, you felt more wetness spill from you as your body readied itself for Miguel.

The pressure increased. “More.”

Your panties were torn apart right away and you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Miguel’s fangs peeking through his lips.

His thumb dragged along your folds, teasing your swollen clit and earning a whimper from you.

“Sorry, but I really need to be inside you,” he grumbled and you nodded.

Your heart skipped several beats, as you tried to control your breathing in anticipation.

The tip of his cock was soon pressed against your opening, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

Before you could inquire what he meant, your mouth fell open as he rammed inside you, bottoming out at once.

He didn’t wait for your to recover from the initial shock, and began pumping into you so ferociously, you had to grab a hold on the metal railing to your right to keep yourself from losing balance.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh of relief as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this sensation.

Grunts and groans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

“Should have bred you sooner…” he managed to say in between snaps of his hips. “Developed that serum just for you…”

Miguel’s idea of dirty talk was effective. Too effective, because you couldn’t hold back from clenching hard around him, savoring the friction and feel of being stuffed full of him.

He picked up the pace and you thought you were going to die.

Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was too overwhelming, and your body was responding to his in a way you had never experienced before.

You felt your lower abdomen coil at the sides and figured the serum had reached its target destination.

Miguel gripped both your arms and you let go of the railing, as he tugged hard to have your back smack against his hard chest.

“You’re so lucky this rut didn’t hit me harder,” he growled, hips never faltering. “I was barely able to control myself around you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned loudly, feeling his pectoral muscles press into your back. This man was too hot and you found yourself thinking that not being bred by him would be a waste.

That genetic material deserved to be spread.

“Being on birth control with me…” he said through gritted teeth, and you felt his fangs nipping your ear lightly. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Bred.” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.

An intense wave of pleasure pulsated from your clit, and you recognised the familiar strings of an orgasm pulling you in and embracing you gentle with each stroke.

“Miguel…” you moaned, blinded by lust and desire.

The grip on your arms loosened briefly and he let your torso lean forward ever so slightly, angling your hips in a way that made him his cock hit you over and over again just where you needed the most.

“I want you full with my babies,” he gasped.

Your orgasm hit you with such force, you thought you were going to collapse and slide off his cock, but he wrapped one arm around you, not allowing you to part from him.

“You feel so good… tighter… tighter,” he urged, as your walls contracted around him rhythmically, faintly at first, but the next stronger than the one before.

You were far too gone to form any words and just let your lips part as an intense moan ripped through your throat.

Miguel was mumbling something behind you, but you couldn’t make out any words as you descended from your height.

Even through quivering legs and pulsing clit, you were able to feel it.

He was now pumping you full with broken snaps of his hips.

You glanced down and saw strings of cum dripping from where he was connected with you.

So much cum.

He wasn’t even slowing down, as he’d usually do at this stage.

Miguel kept on ramming into you from behind, sending more and more cum to drip from within you.

An animalistic growl left his mouth as he finally came to a halt, breathing hard.

He remained balls deep inside you, and you planted on hand on the wall to look in absolute awe at the cum dripping and dangling from your clit, a pool of it now at your feet.

“How did you cum so much?” you managed to say in between laboured breaths.

“I’m rutting, cariño. My body produces more,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

You glanced to the screen nearby.

<DNA stabilising sequence at 100%>

“Maybe you can take the neutraliser now?

He slid his cock out of you halfway, before slamming it back, and you felt more cum spill out. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, you were utterly fucked.

In every sense of the word.

Masterlist

[cherubfae]

jealous slashers~!✧

With Michael, Brahms, Jason, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Thomas Sawyer, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman

tags: gn!reader, jealousy, creepy men, unwanted attention/touching, uggestive and mature themes, gore/blood, violence, canon typical behavior, billy x reader x stu poly, rob zombie!mikey, I know Sal isn't exactly a slasher but he's my baby and needs to be included

Alexa, play Love to Die by the Slashstreet Boys

Michael

Rest in Peace to the poor, stupid man who thought it'd be a good idea to mess with the Shape's partner, and Michael had witnessed it all. How this man shoves you into an empty alleyway, the clatter of your groceries falling. The guy doesn't get much more than a few bruises and claw marks when Michael's knife slices through the back of the man's throat, protruding from the other end in a splash of blood. The Shape watches you wipe your bloody face off, not doing much but picking up three of your four fallen bags and tugging you into his side.

Brahms

Absolutely not. Brahms is fuckin' seething from his safe space sheltered behind the walls. Heavy breathing muffled by the porcelain mask, he watches with wild eyes as some idiot decides to break into the mansion whilst you were sleeping, and proceeds to hold you at knifepoint, effectively pinning you to the bed in what little nightclothes you wore. The unwanted guest and you are certainly going to know when Brahms is upset. There's banging on the walls coming from every direction that leaves the would-be burglar panicked and you slightly more comfortable.

"You're not allowed to be here," comes the eerily childlike voice Brahms has perfected. He crawls his way out from behind the large antique mirror. "I'll make sure you never come near them again." With a sudden slam, Brahms downs the intruder with a lead pipe repeatedly bashing the object until all that remains was brain matter and gooey blood. He drops the pipe with a huff and collects you into his arms, the cool porcelain biting onto the heat of your chest.

Jason

As the protector of the surrounding forest, Jason is always watching. He's omnipotent, he sees all. He seems to know where people are at all times and he can sense when you're in distress. Your shared cabin door left ajar sends his blood boiling and his heavy footfall increasing as he approaches your home. Barging in, Jason's pale eyes lock onto you and your assailant holding you by the throat. His thunderous steps are quick, slicing through the man with his machete and proceeds to lift him up while still pierced with the blade. The man gurgles, arms weakly reaching behind him in attempts to claw at Jason. All attempts were futile. He tossed the body to the side before he gently frets over you, his large hands soothing the fingerprints tarnishing your throat.

Billy & Stu

Rather snake-like the two will wrap themselves around you (they adore your personal space) and stare down whoever else demands your attention. Billy's arm hooks around your waist and Stu wraps himself around your shoulder, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "Is this guy bothering you, baby?" Looking like a shark that's tasted blood in the water, Billy's eyes grow more wild. He's already making a mental note of who and where this guy lives. The guy raised his hands in defense backing down the more the two stared at him, walking off completely.

"We're gonna take care of him, doll," Billy promises, kissing your cheek. Stu cackles lightly, tongue sticking out. They would strike tonight.

Vincent

There's no one Vincent trusts more to watch over you when he can't than his own two brothers. He had his hands full, turning Dalton and Wade into wax people. Nick and Carly were proving to be hard to get a hold of and there was still another tourist that needed to be taken care of.

But then Bo is telling him that the person escaped and he doesn't know where you were. His two worst fears confirmed. Vincent is soon on a wild hunt, trying to find you anywhere with Bo hot on his heels. He soon locates you, passed out with a bit of blood on your head. Your eyes slowly open as he touches your cheek, catching you as you wobble into his warm embrace. He shares a look with Bo who nods.

"I've got you, brother. Keep them here with ya. Wait til I'm back, ya hear?"

Bo

Out in public, he's all cordial and kind smiles. Especially if this is an intended victim. Some random person putting the moves on his partner is a huge no-no and one Bo doesn't take lightly. That person just warranted themselves a for sure death sentence and Bo isn't feeling too kind, so perhaps he'll drag things out, yeah? Touch what's his and you got what's comin' to ya.

"Can I see, baby? That bastard leave any marks on ya?" Bo strokes your shoulders, blue eyes drifting over your frame like water. He has every intention of marking every place that person touched, no matter if you tell Bo the guy only grabbed your arm. Once he has his mind set on something, he's gonna do it.

Lester

Unlike his older twin brothers, Lester is actually pretty chill. Especially in comparison to Bo. He doesn't think much of the people he's helping get into Ambrose knowing full well it's their final destination and Vincent and Bo will take care of things as they always have. What he doesn't like is some dude making a pass at you right in front of him. Can't he see the engagement ring on your finger? It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, watching with narrowed eyes as the small group heads towards the mechanic shop in search of a fan belt.

A familiar hand on his arm calms him down instantly. He turns to you and musters a weak smile as your hands slide around his torso from behind, leaning your cheek on his shoulder. "Y'alright?" Lester nods too quickly and unconvincingly, giving you a quick kiss. "Yeah, darl', always."

Thomas

Your partner is not unlike a bear, watching with wild eyes as one of Hoyt's new catches clasps onto you, their nails digging into your arms, and pinning you to the barbed fence. The cry of pain you let out has Tommy barreling towards you, chainsaw revving to life. A deep snarl echoes behind his mask and he wastes no time cutting down the poor soul with a single swipe of his motorized saw. Tommy turns it off and picks you up in his large arms as gently as he can. With his masked cheek leaning against yours, he carries you back towards the house. Mama Luda Mae will take a good look at you.

Sal Fisher

Honestly Sal isn't one to get jealous. He's pretty level-headed and understanding in most situations. He respects your choices and he's not gonna step on any toes or do anything drastic; Sal isn't a monster. However, if he sees some guy make a creepy pass at you and clearly overstep your boundaries, he won't hesitate to swoop in, looping his arm around your shoulders. His sharp blue eyes staring at the man from behind his prosthetic mask.

"Do we have a problem here?" His voice is cold, lacking any interest in what excuse the man finds. Sal's main focus will be on you, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. His main priority is to get you away from this sicko and would totally call in reinforcements from his brother Larry if need be.

Patrick

A jealous Patrick Bateman isn't a good scenario for anyone. Especially not with his deteriorating mental state. He trusts you explicitly, with his thoughts, ideas, and recreational hobbies that most would find distasteful. So when a colleague of his gets too big for his britches and unabashedly begins to flirt with you in his presence, Patrick finds it difficult to keep his boiling bloodlust at bay. The heat of his anger is getting to his head, the fierce emotions only swelling well it's clear how uncomfortable you look in that man's company. He must see to put an end to him quickly.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"Are you alright, my darling? That man surely didn't know his place, did he?" Patrick places a hand at your back, guiding you out of the office party. "Let's get you home and into a nice hot bath, hmm? I'd rather not taste that swine on your lovely skin."

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye��re off yer head.” 

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins. 

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way. 

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.” 

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. 

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now? 

He’s really going to kill you this time. 

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this. 

You still have your sanctuary. 

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath. 

Still… 

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse- 

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny? 

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him. 

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe. 

Deep breath. You can do this. 

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear. 

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.  

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner. 

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly. 

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it. 

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily. 

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek. 

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them. 

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast? 

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling. 

“Good night, bunny.”

[leqonsluv3r]

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

[toomanythoughts4myhead]

Woven from the same thread

[Part 2] [Masterlist]

Summary: Coriolanus Snow hungers for control, what will happen when he gives up it up for his own good? What will happen when he finaly meets his match?

Pairing: Sub!Coriolanus Snow x Dom!reader

Warnings: gaslight, gatekeeper, girl boss; dumbification; Coriolanus Snow, mentioned of death and bombings, manipulations.

A/N: purely an excuse to write for submissive Coriolanus. I love me a controlling obsessive man, but I love him more on his knees crying.

Coriolanus Snow who decided getting a cute rich girlfriend would help him in life. He wouldn't love her, he'd discard her immediately the moment he managed to get into university with the plinth prize or if he simply found someone better.

Coriolanus Snow who saw you and your sweet smile and charming innocent eyes and decided that you were going to be his personal piggy bank.

Coriolanus Snow who tries charming you with pretty words and gentlemanly actions, providing as much as he can muster with his unexistable budget. An occasional white rose or a pretty origami would be thrown your way, but that's as far as he could afford to go.

Coriolanus Snow who realizes too late you are a snake like him.

Coriolanus Snow who gapes in horror at you in your lavish room at your parent's penthouse after you reveal it all to him. Telling him how you saw his thinning frame and hollow cheeks, the acidy breath from hunger and the lack of presents or money spent on you had given him away. It was all a hypothesis but his reacting confirmed it.

Coriolanus Snow who is frozen in place, his deepest fear of getting closer to someone and having them find out of his poverty hidden in plain sight made his pale skin loose all semblence of color.

Coriolanus Snow who is on the verge of dropping on his knees and begging(he should) but you run a hand along his jaw and propose a deal. He is the smartest boy in the Academy, presentable and well mannered, he will continue to be your boyfriend and you will keep your mouth shut and wallet open for him as long as he plays by your whistle. It was left unspoken that if he stepped out of line you would air his dirty laundry with no hesitation.

Coriolanus Snow who becomes your personal dog, no matter how much he hates it. You wrote him a check to buy his family some food and pay his rent, as a starting sum, with one of your credit cards.

Having a pretty smart boyfriend was a dream come true for you. Having said boy and holding an unimaginable power over his every move was all you ever wanted. You and him shared the same poison, the same thirst for power, you knew that. But he hadn't, and that is what brought him to his demise.

He lost the battle. He lost the war.

Coriolanus Snow who does all the stereotypical "perfect boyfriend" things. He carries your books, opens the doors for you, pulls your chair out, kisses your forehead sweetly and holds your hand. He was perfect, at performing in public at least. Behind closed doors he still had his bite, no matter how good he could act his ego got the best of him.

You would break him soon enough

You started it small.

Phase 1:

Giving him small commands first in public, where he couldn't let his bravado fall. Telling him to wait for you, to not move, to lift that, do that, etc. Later you did it when there were people of your age or older around. Clearly showing off the power you had over Coriolanus, he had to obey you, his families apartment depended on it. He wanted to snap and not do it, to show he is in fact his own master, but how will he explain to granma' am and Tigris that they had to live on the street because his girlfriend/sugar mommy was too bossy?

Coriolanus Snow who was left to marinate in his own embarrassment in silence, feeling all eyes on him as people's perception of him change. From a proud heir to one of the most important business for the Capitol to a lovesick boyfriend who was his girlfriends servant, with a smile on his face worst of all. He was starting to get used to it. This had been going on for months now, the habit was starting to get rooted deeply.

Phase 2:

It was still a small jump but you started to give him shorter orders, one word commands, expecting him to know what to do- and he did. You'd say "open" and any door would be trust wide open and held for you. You'd say "hold" and thrust whatever you are holding to him without a spare glance. Maybe in the past he would have thrown the expensive purse or books while looking you dead in the eyes like a statement but now he simply waited for you patiently.

Coriolanus Snow who actually threw your books in a fit of rage once and ended up penniless for a month. He had to come to your house timidly after receiving no calls on the private phone you had bought him and no reply as he blew up your line.(he could only call your number and couldn't add or remove it. who else did he need to contact?)

Coriolanus who had to face greater humiliation than what he was used to, as he walked across the private party thrown by your parents, looking for you. The pitiful looks he got wobbling around in his academy uniform, even outside school as he asked around for you. People must have seen him as a kicked puppy, looking for his owner. It wasn't completely false.

Coriolanus Snow who found you in a secret room pointed to him by your mother who had cooed at him pitifully, used to seeing him waddle after you almost daily. You were sitting on large chair behind a wooden desk, looking over some documents. Your gaze snapped to him as he entereed, the faint yellow light from the lamp illuminated his face and made the miserable look in his eyes and blush in his cheeks ever more evident.

He had gotten to eat so good, first class meals, you'd even send a private chef over to his house to cook for him when he was especially good. He had gotten greedy and now going back to slurping bean juice felt unimaginable.

"Your rent is looking ever the higher. Its not looking good."

He hadn't(didnt) want to think about this as he slept on a cold matress, their heating had run out. He missed the taste of luxury. He would do anything to get it back.

"I made a mistake, y/n."

He knew he should do more. He knew you'd like to see him beg and squirm but he didn't think he could handle any more of this if he did. He had felt so much pressure, so such stress to find some food, to worry about rent, to hide the eyebags under his eyes, the humiliation from tonight was almost too much.

"Come here, Coriolanus."

Your voice rang out cold and commanding, but never demanding. You had too much power over him to demand. You pulled the chair back and it's wheels creaked, you put a hand on your thigh in a wordless command. Coriolanus wobbled a bit shakily, trying to maintain some form of dignity as he walked to you. He came to a halt between your legs, looking down at you and creating a shadow over your form. It should have made him feel better, to be in one way on top, but it didn't, he couldn't delude himself anymore, he knew he had no control.

What had you done to him?

"Kneel"

It took him a few seconds but he dropped slowly to his knees, one leg at a time until he was at eyelevel with your knees, sitting on his hinges, since he knew he'd be down here for a while. He stared stubbornly into your eyes, his pale blue eyes shone almost angelically paired with his pink lips. Your pretty puppy, it almsot made you smile. It almost made you forgive him, almost.

"You disobeyed me, Coriolanus. I told you there would be consequences."

"I know, y/n, i know, i wont do it again. I promise."

"I dont believe you."

You say and pick the document you had been reviewing before. You bring them close enough so he can read them too. They were charts and documents of increasing rent money for the apartment building his penthouse was in, the wages of the workers where Tigris worked, a paper with the retirement money his grandma got, paper with the money the country gave him as a compensation since he had lost both of his parents. All the money that his family got and had to spend.

Coriolanus who skims the papers but even the breif look of the numbers told him what he already knew.

He had no future without you. The Hunger games had gotten canceled this year since the death of Felix, the presidents son, the Plinth prize had gotten withdrawn. He had nothing, he could do nothing.

"I gave you everything, Coriolanus. Was your pride worth your future?"

He feels his gaze get hazy, the panic was starting to set in. He had come here to get you back, sure that he would be able to do it, but now he could almost taste your rejection. He was starting to get scared and panicked. He needed you.

"It wasnt- it isnt. Y/n, I made a mistake, plase forgive me. I wont do it again."

He shuffles closer to you subconsciously, looking up at you as his voice grew hoarse. His pride long gone, thrown out the moment he saw the consequences. You place a soft hand on his hair, gripping it gently and he feels the golden ring on your finger, the one with your family's crest made from pure gold, rest heavily on his scalp. You tilt his face up to look at you.

"Beg. Show me how sorry you are."

His mouth opened immediately, no hesitation to beg for you. Maybe he should feel shame to be thrust into this position but all he felt was hope. If you were willing to hear him out it means there is some chance he could get you back.

"Im sorry, y/n, im so sorry. I was stupid, i was greedy, i was arrogant. I wont do it again. Im yours, please"

He hadn't realized he had started crying until his tears pooled and fell, warm and salty, against his lips and on the material of the chair, his long blond lashes clump togetger and his lips redden, the tear streaks down his cheeks and neck glisten in the light and he looks like a painting.

You decide you like him like this best, begging at your feet and crying for your love.

You coo at him sympatheticly even as a smile tugs the corners of your lips. You caress his beautiful locks of hair and wipe his tears away only to lick your fingers.

"My poor baby, no need to cry. Im here now, you remembered where you belong, its okay now, you are okay now."

His breath grows labored and his face twists in pain as more tears follow, he burries his face into the bare skin of your inner thighs and sobs loudly. All the stress had caught up with him. The responsibilities, the fear, the hunger, the thought that he'd lose his anchor, the thought he'd lose you.

Your guidance, your attention, your love. He didn't need to worry anymore, he didn't need to fret and plot to stay at the top, simply being known as your lover was enough. You were the second richest family in Panem, after the President. Coriolanus held much more power than he ever had on his own. People respected him more and he got the cushiony life he had always dreamt of.

He was safe.

His family was safe.

You let him cry, cooing calming words of reassurance as you caress the nape of his neck and the curls of his hair. His big shaky hands envelope your thighs and he holds onto them for dear life.

You knew he would come crawling back once he saw that you meant business and weren't bluffing. It had taken him longer and you respect his resilience but he had funaly come to his senses and back into your arms. A part of you felt a pang of empathy for him, for the poor boy underneath all the masks and facades he had on to survive in this world. You knew when it came down to it he would have murdered him, to remain the shell of the person he is. You don't feel bad for Snow. You felt bad for Coriolanus.

Poor, caring, driven Coriolanus, who might have been good if not for the poison and hunger and fear he had been forced to shoulder.

But you are here now, so he wouldn't have to worry anymore. He can be good. You'll make sure he is your good boy.

Phase 0:

Coriolanus is a smart boy, he probably could predict all the steps of manipulation you had come up with, what he probably hadn't anticipated were the rewards. The additional money, delicious food, new clothes, you'd even found a better job for Tigris (not good enough to pay for the rent ofc). The small touches you'd offered him and the lack of discrimination against his poverty. You'd treated him good and given him a lot.

How could a boy who's only had things taken from him begin to expect anything else? The mentality of take or lose had kept him alive this long, but maybe you wanted to give. He had shared with you in a night of vulnerabilities about his family. How his mother and unborn sister died, hiw his father died, how he was left with only his grandma and Tigris almost broke to survive.

Coriolanus had a lot of potential to be your loyalest dog or biggest enemy depending on how you let him flourish.

That's why you had bought him a phone to call only you, made him dependant only on you, talked with your parents and together you'd managed to cancel the Hunger games, throwing all the district tributes back in their homes, far far away. Especially Lucy Gray, the songbird who was on her way to charm Coriolanus. How you'd agreed the money from the plinth prize should be used on fixing the damage done by the rebelion bombings.

Coriolanus wasn't a good person.

You were simply better at being bad.

[mosaickiwi]

Little "Love" Notes

Angel should really tell someone if they think somebody’s breaking in but instead they do… this? For some reason.

very good idea

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Quiet and quick as could be, [REDACTED] slowly opened your window by the fire escape. He climbed in carefully, a little astonished that you still weren’t bothering to lock it after all these months. Their boots hardly made a sound as he took practiced steps over the hardwood floor of your apartment and headed straight to the kitchen. He didn’t need to see to know which floorboards would creak or groan underfoot.

Just as they expected, the usual sight that had him even more excited to go on his now almost nightly break-ins was there to greet him. A handful of hastily scrawled, bright pink sticky notes were slapped across various surfaces.

At some point or another you'd gotten sick of things going missing. Sure, most of them turned up after a while—and always right where you thought you'd left them—but even still it annoyed you. So you started leaving silly messages for your supposed burglar. He chose to read them as love notes.

“Don't take anything in here you BITCH I'll be so mad!!” screamed one from its place on a kitchen cabinet. Your writing there was a little illegible from how fast you surely wrote it, but he found it endearing.

Another, on the side of some faded plastic-ware read, “I made these cookies for a friend but a lot of them came out wrong. You may have the burnt ones.”

“Give that ugly red shirt back it doesn't belong to me.” That was the last one he could find in the room for now, left on top of the counter next to the notepad and pen you always used.

As much as he wished to, the hacker usually didn’t respond for fear of confirming your needless worries. They'd never want to harm you like a real burglar. But he always followed the instructions when he could. And he could do some of those tonight.

Since you'd so nicely asked, he left the bottom cabinet alone. They already knew what you kept in there anyway. He wouldn’t tell a soul.

He took a few burnt cookies out of the container left on the counter—not enough that you'd notice. Some to eat once he left, and one to keep. It was another thing you offered up to him, after all. 

But the sorry excuse of a shirt that your (worst) childhood friend had left behind was long gone. [REDACTED] had already given it a much needed vacation to the bottom of Lake Bluemoss, along with some other items that Leon had dared to leave among your belongings.

With the notes in the kitchen mostly taken care of, he set off towards your laundry closet. Only to find the small sliding door in the hallway closed shut with a note of its own smack dab in the middle. 

“Please don't take my comfy clothes anymore :c I know you always give them back but it'll be getting cold soon!! You don’t want me freezing in the middle of the night, do you? Won't you forgive me? Pretty please? ♥ ♥”

Mind going a mile a minute, [REDACTED] had to read your beautiful handwriting again and again as if decoding a different language. Those tiny, black inked hearts at the end of the note were all he could understand in the moment. Your sweetly written, pleading love letter finally sunk in once he managed to shake away the haze you’d unknowingly swept him into.

This one was a risk that he was willing to take. Of course they wanted you to be comfortable. He gently peeled the note off so it wouldn’t tear, and folded it away to tuck into his jeans.

Then, the dark haired man began to tug his favorite hoodie up and over his shoulders.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You lazily pulled the folding door open in search of a blanket. It was just a little bit colder for some reason when you woke up this morning, so you needed something to keep you cozy while you waited for Violet to come over later that afternoon. You reached up to the middle shelf where you normally kept extra blankets, but something just below it caught your eye.

A huge, black hoodie sat folded on top of the pile of clean towels you forgot to take care of days ago.

You didn't recognize it, but it had to belong to one of your friends, right? They all formed a habit of leaving stuff with you once you moved back to town. Jae still hadn’t picked up the roller skates he got for Maple—they were only used the one time.

Ignoring the blanket you meant to grab, you picked up the hoodie and slipped it on. The giant thing practically swallowed you, sleeves enveloping your hands and the hem falling well past your hips. The garish horror design that decorated its front didn't seem to be anything your friends were into, either.

But it was warmer than you thought possible. Plus, it smelled nice, like cherries and a little familiar comfort of something you couldn't place. Whoever it belonged to surely wouldn't mind if you kept it for a while.

You didn't bother to spare it another thought and hurried off to check the kitchen. Hopefully the cookies you'd painstakingly baked yesterday were still there.

[tofulikesmala]

s/o with a comfort pillow (or toy)

who?: Xiao, scaramouche, Neuvillette, gorou, freminet, razor

gn

genre: fluff

Xiao

He would see you hugging it, man would get jealous. You hug it while you sleep, you hug it while you work, you jut bury your face in it once in a while. But he doesn’t understand, why are you so attached to it? Eventually, he starts to get jealous. Lying on the bed, you’re supposed to be hugging HIM not your comfort toy/ pillow >:( he would def feel tempted to rip it to shreds, but once he sees your crying face when you find it missing, he’ll sigh and give it back to you. When he asks why you were so attached to it, you explained that it has been with you since you were really young, that you have become so attached to you now you can’t let go. He looks away and huffs “foolish mortal”

Scaramouche

Well….this guy is another one who would get jealous…. and has a higher chance of actually ripping the comfort pillow/ toy than Xiao. He would enjoy teasing you about it, but as much as you hate the teasing, you still keep the pillow/toy with you. Once he hid it in secret and you panicked BIG TIME, once scaramouche had enough of your sobbing he’ll give it back, you made him promise not to do it again. (He will lmao)

Neuvillette

He would politely ask you to put it away and hug him instead LMAOOOO this time is not him teasing you, it’s you teasing him as he craves for your attention. He buries his head in your neck as he holds you, his face turning a shade of red. At least his nice, he’ll let you hug it during the day, he won’t take it from you either, but once you get into the bed with him, it’s him time >:(

Gorou

Man, he would be realllly pouty and clingy. He wouldn’t be one to take it or hide it from you, but he will be jealous

Gorou sits up a little, confirming you are asleep. He gently removes the pillow/ toy from your grasp. Suddenly, he felt you shift in your position. He stops as fear consumes him for a while. But once incoherent words come out of your mouth, he knows you’re still asleep. He gently placed the pillow/toy on his side of the bed, as he slowly pops into your arms, making you hug him instead. He shifted his tail so that you could feel the fluffiness. He sighs as he drifted off to sleep as well

Freminet

This boy is just the sweetest hejajajrbrhwhaj

anyways, after explaining what a comfort toy/pillow is, he'd def make a huggable version of pers and hug it together with you on bed >333 He's not one to get very jealous over a comfort toy/pillow, but he will. A little.

Razor

My boy is gonna be like what's that💀. After explaining, he curious, he wants to know WHY you’re so attached to it, even if you've been with it a long time. So…. You reluctantly give it to him, but how could you ever refuse those puppy eyes of his? He holds it gently, before burying his face into it. He inhales the scent as he slowly said “remind me of s/o….”

Razor was left alone in the house, you had gone out to run some errands, leaving razor to do his own things. He missed you, he softly whined as he wanted a hug :(((. Just then, he saw your comfort toy/pillow. He lay down on bed and hugged it tight, it was as if he was hugging you. Your scent filled his nose as he buries his head into it. It somehow made him sleepy, he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

“Razor I’m home!” You closed the door as you stepped into the house. However, there was no reply. It was strange….did the worst happen? Panic rose up in your heart as you entered the bedroom. But the sight only made your heart melt. You quickly changed your clothes as you lay down the bed, hugging him from behind. And so you too, drifted to sleep.

Notes: THIRD FIC LESSGOOO HAHAHA I HOPE ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO STILL HAVE THEIR COMFORT PILLOWS OR TOYS WILL FIND HAPPINESS WITH THIS ONE

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 13

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

It was like walking directly into a wall. The moment that door opened Steve took one step inside, and had to immediately step back again as his senses were assaulted with the scent of pain, of fear, of discomfort, and distress.

A shake of his head later in a fruitless bid to shake that painful mixture of scents from his senses, he pushed himself through it. The door closed behind him.

The vents were working overtime to clear the air, but the more they cleared, the more replaced it. Eddie was just a small bundle of negativity, of suffering, and Steve had just left him there.

He knew it wasn’t his fault, knew he wasn’t responsible, but he felt awful.

He felt awful knowing that he should have stayed. Even though he knew that he couldn’t have, he knew it was against all the rules, knew that someone would have tried to drag him out had he stayed, that it wasn’t up to him, he felt like the worst Alpha. Like a failure. He’d left his mate to suffer, he didn’t deserve to be in there, didn’t deserve Eddie’s forgiveness, didn’t deserve the right to be the one to help him through his distress.

He shook his head again, the air so thick, so full of negativity that it was dragging him down with it.

The corner, he’d seen Eddie on the cameras, one quick look around the room gave him the location of the one camera still active, the blinking red dot telling him they were being watched. “Eddie?” He followed the line of sight to the wall, the darkness of the room and the mixture of scents filling every single crevice made it difficult to see clearly.

The whine was what gave him away.

A soft, pitiful little whine from the corner semi-muffled by fabric, Steve was there within seconds, down on his knees before his bundled up Omega, the other man trembling within the thick fabric of the weighted blanket that’d already long since lost the scent Steve had meticulously rubbed over it, lost to the overwhelming scent the omega was giving off in his distress.

His eyes were dark and unfocused, blown pupils rendering them almost black, half hidden by sweat-damp hair, his breathing was shallow, skin flushed, slick with sweat “Ah—Alpha?” There was no strength to his voice, a whisper of sound amidst weakened breaths.

Steve had suffered many a heart break in his life, so many trials and errors with partners of the past, but nothing could compare to the break he felt when Eddie struggled in vain to reach out to him from within the blanket, the omega struggling to find enough strength just to lift an arm against the weight of the fabric.

Anyone else, Eddie would find the strength. If anyone else had walked into that room, Steve knew that he’d have found the strength to attack, the fact that he hadn’t yet, was enough to tell Steve, not that he couldn’t… but that he wouldn’t.

It was all the confirmation Steve needed to take action. “Alpha’s here, m’here Eddie” voice soft, he moved closer, arms curling under the weakened omega, one under his knees and the other cradling his back. At Eddie’s inquisitive little chirp, Steve pressed a kiss into the sweat-damp curls at the crown of Eddie’s head “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” And they were up. Steve rose to his feet without strain, an action that for the briefest of moments, had desire pouring from the Omega in his arms.

He was strong, capable, he could just… pick Eddie and that blanket right up regardless of how much they weighed combined.

“Need…” Eddie breathed, head heavy against Steve’s chest “m’hot… too—too hot—hurts” could barely open his eyes, Steve could feel the warmth radiating through that blanket, he was too warm, maybe he’d have been okay if he’d have used the heat aid once but… it felt like he was burning up.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, we need to cool you down, that’s what I’m doing okay? M’gonna get you to the bathroom and we’re gonna cool you down.”

The nest was a wreck, Steve didn’t know what’d happened between when he left hours before and that moment, but the nest had suffered. Blankets were thrown, clothing had been pulled from the framework and tossed away, the shirt Steve had eventually given him was now caught on the edge of a set of drawers, thrown away.

The alpha in him mourned whatever Eddie had been thinking that made him throw it away.

Eddie didn’t verbally respond, instead he curled in on himself tighter, pressed his face closer to Steve’s chest, his breathing still shallow, still weak, he wasn’t shaking anymore.

Steve used his shoulder to turn the light on in the bathroom, it took a couple of tries to hit it just right, but once light flooded the room he was quick to get Eddie to the large bath yet gentle in how he removed the blanket once he’d managed to climb in, after lowering both himself and Eddie into the tub and shower combo.

At Eddie’s defensive groan and his attempt to keep the blanket close, Steve gently shushed him “Shhh shh, it’s okay, Omega, I’m here, you don’t need the blanket.” It was only making it worse, hotter, it didn’t even smell like Steve anymore.

Just of Eddie, of his sadness, his discomfort, his fear. He threw it over the edge of the tub, letting it land in a heavy heap on the floor.

Steve had never seen an Omega like that before. Lost to lust absolutely, an Omega at the peak of their heat was usually a stunning thing, beautiful, almost glowing in their radiance, enough to make an Alpha go wild with want, but this wasn’t that. He’d never… he’d never seen one look like that.

It was terrifying, it took all he had to not panic. Eddie had been alone for four hours, steadily getting worse and worse, what if nobody had checked on him? What would have happened if they’d have waited longer to look at those cameras?

What if they’d just left him? What if they hadn't noticed?

The omega slumped back into Steve’s arms, the fight in him lost, head back against him, his chest still rising and falling double time in an effort to breathe.

“Eddie, Imma need you to stay with me, okay? Keep your eyes open, alright?” Although out of focus, Eddie’s eyes remained open as he nodded, weak, the movement minimal but he managed. “I need to get your shirt off, can you lift your arms?” He shook his head, movement so slight if Steve had blinked, he’d have missed it. “Alright, okay, clothes on.”

It wouldn’t be fun, he knew it wouldn’t be fun, but with a little twist of his body, Steve reached up and twisted the dial on the shower, and grabbed Eddie tightly just in time for the Omega to snarl his objection when cold water rained down upon them suddenly.

Life slammed into the boy in his arms with a startled yelp, eyes suddenly wide, sharper than before yet still so very dark, he struggled, he snarled, he snapped, and scratched at the arms holding him down, scoring deep welts and bloodied tracks down Steve’s arms in an attempt to free himself from the hold to escape the cold spray that splashed over the edge of the bath soaking the floor and the blanket that’d fallen to it.

Non-verbal but violent in his struggle, Steve kept him down, held him tight though the stinging pain until the water began to warm, held on so tightly until the boy began to calm, until warmth rained upon them, not too hot, not too cold. Right in the middle, the sweet spot where warmth touched cold but didn’t quite intertwine. Soothing on a too hot summers day.

Eddie stopped struggling, slumping back against his chest once more.

The water stung against the wounds inflicted, but Steve would live. Eddie hadn’t done too much damage in his struggle. “You with me, Eddie?”

“Mnnnghh” it was stronger than before, still weak but… there was more of Eddie’s voice in it. Less breath. The water kept running, Steve hadn’t put the plug in, so it’d just drain away, but it kept running, raining comfortable summer shower-like warmth upon them. “…Steve?” Eddie turned in his place, Steve’s arms falling lax enough for him to move, albeit slowly, and with a little squeaking from the friction against the sides of the bath tub, but he could move. “Why—why are you… why are you here? You… you can’t be—can’t be here.”

Steve ever so gently lifted his hand to Eddie’s face, to tuck stray, wet curls out of his face, behind his ear. His skin was still so red, still so warm to the touch, but he was there. Steve let his hand linger when Eddie leaned into it, his whole body seeming to press closer to that morsel of contact, breath leaving him in a soft whimper, he was there…

That was the important part, his mind was mostly there, shocked back into place by the cold water, temporarily maybe, but it was enough.

“M’here for you. You weren’t okay, Eddie… why didn’t you use the aid I gave you?” The question had Eddie opening his eyes once more, although they dipped to the space between them, he sagged, his shoulders drooping, defeated.

“Didn’t—didn’t want to—to be a failure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a bad omega…” he sniffled, then lifted his hand to rub at his nose, breath hitching as he spoke “bad at it all… nobody—nobody wants me—I didn’t wanna—wanna accept that my only option… was a stupid heat aid… I didn’t—I don’t want that.” Omega’s were sought after, alphas naturally flocked to them, courted them, fawned over them, yet Eddie had never had the attention of any alpha. Even at the bars he and his band played at, even among his own people…

Nobody wanted him.

He’d failed at the most basic part of being an Omega, being wanted. Having to use a heat aid because he had literally no other option was just… the final nail in his coffin. The proof that he was worthless. He thought he could hold out, could just wait a little longer, he had Steve’s scent on that blanket, he had the shirt in his nest, Steve’s heated promises for after his heat, but no, it’d taken half an hour for the pain to overwhelm.

He didn’t remember much else besides the agony of watching Steve leave the room. Leave him behind. Abandon him. It felt like he’d been rejected. Like his Alpha didn’t really want him, like none of it was real.

The blanket had stopped helping too quickly. The shirt felt like it no longer belonged, nothing belonged, nothing was right, his nest was wrong. He didn’t remember tearing it apart, but he knew he had. Knew he didn’t have a nest to hide in anymore. He was a bad Omega.

“Eddie that doesn’t make you a failure—”

“You don’t get it!!” Steve flinched back as Eddie snapped at him, the omega fully capable of violence, Steve had the scratches down his arms to prove it, and he could see the elongated canines sharp enough to puncture skin, normally used in bonding rituals but fully capable of tearing through flesh in both defence and offense. “You’ve never failed at the ONE thing your stupid alpha self is naturally meant to be able to do. People FAWNED over you, Steve, people wanted you, people threw themselves at you. Nobody wanted me. An unwanted Omega… have you ever heard of such a pathetic thing? An unwanted Omega? You know I went into heat once at school? Nobody even noticed.”

He'd spent the whole day stuffing his face until the school nurse had caught wind and sent him home, he’d not even been trying to hide his scent, just watched as people kept a wide berth, nobody wanted to touch the freak. Even during the time of the month when he was supposed to be the most attractive to the Alphas around him. Nobody.

Among failing everything else in life, he’d failed at the one thing he should have been born able to do. He was worthless. A worthless Omega.

His only saving grace in the moment was that the water hid the freely falling tears on his face.

“Eddie...”

“You don’t get it... how could you get it?” He put up such a good front, hid behind his loud, expressive, ridiculous self, but he just wanted to be wanted. Just once. Once would be enough just to prove that he could. That he wasn’t a complete failure, just once.

Steve’s other hand joined the first, both palms now cradling the other man’s face, Steve moved, pitched forward and shifted positions until he was on his knees in front of his Omega, awkward and slippery but he managed. “I want you, Eddie” those big dark eyes were on him, red rimmed and heartbroken. Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead “I do” another kiss to the tip of his nose “When this is over, I’m going to court the fuck out of you if you’ll let me” another kissed pressed to his cheek, he could feel Eddie relaxing, could feel him falling lax in Steve’s hold. “Gonna give you every quarter I find on the floor cause I know every time you see one you get all giddy about it, I’m gonna get you flowers, wild ones, cause I’ve seen you pick dozens over the years along the sides of the school carpark, I’m gonna get you pretzels covered in chocolate, and every silly Garfield related thing I can find” He’d never ignored Eddie. Not completely.

Sure he didn’t remember Eddie ever going into heat at school, but he’d never completely ignored him.

He was impossible to ignore, always there in his peripherals, doing silly shit in the background of Steve’s life. Steve had been unknowingly learning things about Eddie for as long as he’d known Eddie existed. It’d just taken a while for all that stuff to become relevant.

“When it’s over?” His voice was losing its strength again, the warmth sinking into his bones, haze returning to his gaze as he leaned more and more weight onto Steve, eyelids heavy.

“Just one more day, that’s all I need you to wait, an I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’m here, I’m staying. I’ll be with you through the whole damn thing, m’not letting you go again, okay?” They’d have to tranquilize him to get him out, and doing that opened them up to attack from Eddie.

“Nest—Nest is—” his voice broke, weak and full of sadness as he pitched forwards, face slipping from Steve’s hands as he fell forwards into his encircling arms instead, leaning heavily against Steve’s broad chest “gone—broke it—I—I broke it, it’s ruined” bad omega, couldn’t even keep a nest intact.

“I’ll fix it, baby, I know how we did it, I’ll fix it all for you, okay?” Steve stroked slow lines through drenched hair, holding him steady, voice soft, trying so hard to soothe “it’s gonna be okay, Eddie I promise, it’s gonna be okay.”

He just had to get Eddie through one more day.

"Need—need alpha—" One more day.

Part 15

[novantinuum]

mmmmmmm. messy ass ramble thoughts ahead. this is not coherent, it is 1am, you have been warned.

so i've been thinking about that "i can fix anything! i can just keep messing up and fixing things forever, and you'll never have to know or think about any of it!" line during steven's lil manic panic moment in the ep everything's fine in the context of like... og SU episodes

this whole lil manic slip is one that's like... it seems a little extreme for him as a character at first, when one looks at the situation on surface.

but i think it really does shed a LOT of light onto one of his deepest fear. the same fear he's harbored for a good damn deal of the show.

"i didn't wanna hurt anyone!"

this moment comes just a few eps after the S3 finale 'reveal' of rose shattering pink diamond. in that final scene of the season, steven gets 'confirmation' from garnet that this happened, and seems to accept it for what it was- a difficult decision made amidst a treacherous war.

but also, he Doesn't.

because he's the legacy rose left behind. because each and every day he's growing more into his power. because now, with this reveal of rose's decision to shatter on the table, he's putting each and every decision he makes under a microscope.

he had no choice, he claims. she wouldn't let him help her.

he had no choice. it was self defense.

but is that true?

isn't that the same thing his mom probably told herself before ending a gem's life forever?

even though she poofed bismuth and holed her away for suggesting the very same idea??

rose became a hypocrite... so what if HE becomes the hypocrite, too?

see, with steven... i think it's really easy in the main show to sorta... observe all his actions on the mere surface without considering the deeper tickings of his psyche. like... take lars being brought back to life. from audience POV, that's a good deed. steven just saved someone with his magic! positive moment.

but genuinely... i think this was one of the worst moments of his entire life. i think he's still haunted by it- by the fact that he can just "fix" people in that way. and i think fixing jasper's shattered gem only made the specter of that day worse.

steven believes his role is to be the Shield.

the protector.

the one who is willing to do whatever it takes- even up to turning himself in for a crime he didn't commit- to protect his family and his friends.

and like, we all know that it's not steven's FAULT that lars died. BUT- he still died while under steven's protection.

and so the same way steven blames himself for "hurting" bismuth, jasper, and eyeball, he blames himself for killing lars. mentally, he Takes Responsibility for his death. yet another tick mark in the box of horrible "mistakes" he's made, yet another tick mark landing him just a little closer to the rose he's desperately trying not to become.

and worst of all... it's a mistake he "covers up."

because his tears are able to bring him back from the dead entirely.

and years later he realizes this is true for gems as well ;-;;;

so yeah, i absolutely think lars' death was also at the back of his mind when he said that line at the beginning

what steven saw in the depths of his mind as he was panicking there was him slipping down a slippery slope of violence that he couldn't escape from

first, causing harm to other gems and calling it self defense...

then, letting your friend die protecting YOU when you're the one who should be protecting him and facing NO consequence for this misgiving because you bring him back to life

then, expressing anger so visceral it can shatter floors, destroy whole rooms, flip vans. out of control. inexcusable.

then... outright shattering a gem in a duel while training to hone that anger. once again, facing NO consequence because you bring her right back.

then, that sudden, terrifying thought of "what if i shattered white diamond"

like, steven has absolutely no framework by which to separate his actions from genuine desire or just plain abstract thought.

he has no framework by which to understand the beautiful tool of adding a "man would it be fucked up or what-" to the beginning of those sorts of intimidating, dark musings.

he has no framework by which to understand the complexities of his trauma, and the way in which genuinely fighting back against someone he once called an enemy might feel empowering- instead, it would seem he's disgusted in retrospect with how deep he pressed into that fight, how much a part of him ENJOYED it, all because of the horrid destination it led to.

anyways at this point steven thinks he has now become the Hypocrite like his mom, and that he's just destined to hurt everyone around him forever but never be punished for it and Ouch

this post has no end, these were just ramble thoughts, the end. goodnight. i am sleepy and need to prepare to make Wig tomorrow bc OH boy i am con crunch.

yeehaw .

[asirensrage]

Unrepentant

Title: Unrepentant Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Fem!Reader, Bonten x Fem!Reader Word count: 3599 Warnings: Dark!fic. Dub-con. Wearing a collar and leash as punishment. Talk of ownership. Edging. Coercion. Public Sex. Swearing. Drug Use. Threats. Choking. Orgasm Denial. References to drug addiction. Unbeta'd. *warnings are not exhaustive*

Notes: I had the urge to write something while listening to Poison from Hazbin Hotel on repeat. This is the result. It is a dark fic. Consider yourself warned. Reader is not described in looks or size. Please let me know what you think. (It's one of the many fics/oneshots I have planned or started for TR lol.) Enjoy!

HEED THE WARNINGS

How did it come to this?

You’re kneeling at his feet, eyes on the ground as the bass of music in the club thumps in time with the headache in the back of your skull. It’s punishment. 

Not the headache. That’s the ache that comes with withdrawal, the same way your fingers twitch as you try to hold them in place. But the position you’re in. The collar tight around your neck that’s attached to a chain he holds. The tension is loose as if it’s not there, but you know if you even shift out of your position, you’ll feel it. 

Feet come to pause in front of you, clad in expensive shoes. You don’t move, don’t look to confirm your suspicion about who it is. 

“Look at you,” he coos. You can hear him clearly over the music, but it’s only when he bends down and tilts your head up to look at him, that you know you’re right. “You look like a fragile thing like this, doll. What’d you do to earn this?”

He knows. They all know. It’s just another test. Ran grins at you as you drop your eyes, knowing you can’t respond right now without permission. 

“Answer.” The man holding your chain demands, yanking it slightly in warning. 

You don’t flinch, don’t make a sound at the way it jars you. “I made a mistake,” you say, just loud enough that they both can hear you. 

Ran laughs at that. “Yeah, baby? A mistake?”

It was more than that. The reason Mikey collared you and kept you chained tonight at his feet was a lesson in humiliation and obedience. In a fit of sobriety, you had attempted to escape. You didn’t get far. 

“That what you’re calling it?” 

You look up at Ran. He looks as handsome as ever, but you know the truth of what’s behind his good looks. You know how much blood is on their hands. You nod and drop your eyes again. 

His hand grips your jaw tightly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Such a pretty thing, baby. Open your mouth.” 

Fear sparks up your spine. You’re in public, even if it’s the VIP area of the club. There are others around. The hesitation makes Ran dig his fingers in tighter, pressing your cheeks against your teeth as he forces you to open your mouth. He leans in and lets a lob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. You swallow, taking the revulsion with it. He smirks, letting go of your jaw before he pats your cheek. He looks up to Mikey who has the chain you’re attached to wrapped around one of his hands. “Let me know when you’re done with her. She can keep the chain.” 

The worst part is that you can only blame yourself. This was a choice you made. Even if you didn’t know it would turn out this way. 

⛓️

It had been chance that led you to them. A bad day, week, year…it had all added up to the moment when you found yourself stumbling into a firm chest. You had dropped the paperwork you had been holding and could only watch helplessly as it fell into the rain. You were crying before you realized it, the dam of stress finally breaking. You kneel on the wet ground, tears falling and mixing with the rain that had started to soak into your skin.

He could have left you. He should have left you, but the stranger you ran into paused and bent down, helping you pick up the papers. He made some ill-timed joke about it not being that bad, and before you knew it, you were telling him about how this was going to get you fired. The admission that you were struggling to provide for your family. A younger sibling, a mother in the hospital…you were their last leg of survival. And it was ruined. 

Until he offered to help.

You should have run in the other direction and never looked back. 

⛓️

You hear his laugh first. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Sanzu says, leaning against the chair behind you. You can practically feel the heat of his body against your back. It’s not surprising. The outfit you’re in can barely be called a dress. “Shit, Mikey…you like her like this? You look like you belong there, sweetheart,” Sanzu says. You ignore the jeering. He likes to get a reaction. 

“Maybe we should keep her like this all the time.” A foot nudges the side of your leg. Rindou. It wasn’t often the two of them were together, but it was a dangerous combination. Like the Haitani brothers together and in a competitive mood.

You try to ignore them, but then Rindou moves in front of you. He doesn’t bend down, but he slips his foot between your legs. You watch as he steps a bit closer before pressing the top of his foot up against you. You tremble, trying not to react as he purposefully tries to make you break, to make you beg, to do anything that counts as breaking Mikey’s rules tonight. You try to focus on your breathing instead of how he rubs his foot against you and how the laces on his shoes cause nearly enough friction on your clit through the lace of the underwear you wear. 

It’s torture trying to keep yourself from grinding down on it, seeking a release you know they can give you if they’re feeling generous.

Finally, he pulls back and you let out a shuddered breath.

“You must really be sorry,” Rindou says. 

A hand digs into your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking up at Sanzu who’s staring down at you, cerulean eyes narrow in their glare. 

“Are you?” he demands. 

You nod quickly, tears prickling in your eyes at the pain of your hair being pulled with the motion. “It was a stupid mistake. I’ll be good!”

He drags a drag of whatever he’s smoking and leans down, blowing it in your face. The familiar scent of marijuana engulfs you and you breathe in quickly, chasing the tease of a high. Anything for an escape. “You better fucking hope so,” he says.  

⛓️

Kakucho offers you two things when you finally get out of the rain. He’ll smooth over the issues at your job, follow you and explain that the destroyed paperwork was his fault…or he’ll get you a job. One that will compensate you far better than anything you’ll do in an office that doesn’t appreciate you. He can help you protect your family, to give them a better life and better healthcare for your mother. 

You’re not stupid. You question his motives first. 

He shrugs. “Maybe I just can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry.” There’s something in his eyes that warns you, but you ignore it...and ask what the job entails.

⛓️

Mochi doesn’t kneel in front of you. 

He doesn’t do anything like trying to edge you or blow smoke in your face. Instead, he rests his hand on the top of your head as he speaks to Mikey. He stands in front of you, but in a way that feels more like he’s blocking you from the others. A small kindness. 

Until he bends down and gently tilts your head up to look at him. He looks at Mikey before offering you a sip of his drink. You agree instantly, letting him tilt it to your lips. “You look good like this, princess. But I prefer you unchained. Hope you learn this lesson. You try it again and one of us just might have to break something.” The drink spills over your lips, making you cough as you choke on the sudden increase of liquid. You bend forward before you can stop yourself, coughing harder. The collar tightens as the chain doesn’t give any further leeway. 

You hear someone laugh in the distance. You think it might be Sanzu but you ignore it, well aware of the pleasure they’re taking in your penance. Mikey had given you a choice when you were dragged back in front of him. Your life or your family’s. It was the same one that got you into this situation in the first place. Only this time, if you chose to leave them in the manner they picked, they’d go to your family and drag them deeper into the depths you were submerged in. Your mother was recovering. Your younger sibling has a future ahead of them. You couldn’t bury them in your regrets and bad decisions. You made the same choice you did last time. The same one you’ll make every time. 

You go back to your kneeling position once you can breathe again.

⛓️

The job that Kakucho promises is a simple office job. One where you keep your head down and don’t ask questions. It lasts two weeks. Two weeks of learning the systems, of ignoring the small things you start learning about who you’re working for. Two weeks of dealing with the confused looks other people send you, of the way Kakucho appears occasionally to walk you out. Until he kisses you. 

He doesn’t apologize when you reel back in surprise. His mismatched eyes watch you, hand grabbing your wrist before you get too far. It’s just a kiss, he tells you. Don’t forget why you’re here. 

A reminder that you owe him. You nod and he lets you go, but the next day, a strange man is waiting at your desk. One of the other executives, you quickly learn. 

⛓️

The pain in your head is growing. 

You want silence or at least something stronger than a puff of smoke shotgunned into your mouth. You never used to do drugs. Funny how fast that all changed. Now you’ll take anything to forget. 

Your legs have gone numb under you and you’ll be lucky if you can walk when he finally decides to take you home. There’s no other place for you. You lost your own apartment ages ago and while all the men have used you, Mikey holds you as tight as he does now, whether or not there’s a physical chain that links you. You owe him your life now. He was gracious not to kill you when you ran from them. This is a small price compared to what you could have owed. 

“You gonna let her up?” 

Takeomi. You don’t see him, but you hear him. If Mikey says anything in response, it blends too well into the background. 

“Least he chose you a good outfit. Look up at me, darling.” They each have their pet names for you when they’re being kind…or wanting to mock you and your fate. 

You wait for the tug signalling permission before you look up at Mikey’s advisor. He’s smoking a cigarette and standing there, looking down at you. He’s older, a scar on his face like some of the others. Different and yet so similar that it makes you think of Kakucho who’s either not attending or has been ordered away from you. 

“You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” he asks. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth before turning to offer it to you. It’s not as strong as you want, but the nicotine might be enough to help ease some of the headache you’re feeling. He lets you inhale twice before he takes it back. An indirect kiss that’s tame compared to some of the other stuff you’ve done together. 

“Thank you,” you say, knowing it’s required. 

He smirks at you, taking another drag before he turns to Mikey. “You should keep the collar.” 

“I know a place,” a new voice interrupts. Koko leans down as he steps up next to you. “We could get one of the ones that she can’t take off. With our symbol carved into it.” He looks at you carefully before lifting your head to look at him. “Thought you’d be crying.” He lets out a small sigh as if he’s disappointed. “You’re prettier when you’re crying.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond to that. Koko likes to spoil you, but he also likes to see you overstimulated and begging for him to stop. Every gift comes with a price and you pay the most with Koko’s. 

“You should have come to me,” Koko says softly. “Would have fucked that mistake out of your head.” He uses your term, informing you that they’re talking about you. It’s nothing new. You’ve been with them all, separately and together. They’ve all seen you breaking apart around them and each other. It’s only everyone else that doesn’t get a taste of you. 

⛓️

The first time you meet Mikey, you’re outside a club you never wanted to go to. It was some party for the employees and the entire floor had been invited. It had been made clear to you, not only by Kakucho but Ran and the others as well, that your attendance was mandatory.

You’re in the middle of eating one of the snacks you picked up at the convenience store on the way here, leaning against the wall of the club. There’s no line tonight and you’re in no rush to go in. You’d rather not drink on an empty stomach. 

It’s not long before you realize someone’s watching you. 

You turn to look, but when you finally catch them, it becomes a little more apparent that they’re not staring at you, but at the food in your hand. 

“Want one?” you ask. He looks thin, his outfit too large on him. You’re not particularly charitable, but you’d rather get rid of the food and garbage before walking into a club. You offer the bag to him. 

He stares at you, finally meeting your eyes, for a long moment. “Why?”

You shrug. “I’m full…and I don’t want to carry it. You can throw it out if you want, but it’s still sealed. I just bought it down the street.” 

He takes the bag, pulling the pancake treat out and staring at the package. He looks back at you. “You here?” he asks, nodding towards the club. When you nod, he leaves and you watch incredulously as he walks in with the plastic bag in one hand. The bouncers don’t even ID him. 

⛓️

Mikey pulls at your collar until you’re stumbling in front of him, leaning into his legs as you try to ease the pressure. He shifts his position before pulling and you’re left struggling as climb up into his lap at his silent demand. 

You straddle his thighs, waiting until he directs you. You’re not usually this calm, this submissive, but the threat of your family’s lives hangs over your head. Regret for your own choices sits heavy in your gut. It’s your own fault. 

“Look at me.”

You lift your eyes to meet Mikey’s. His gaze is dark, but it’s not empty like it used to be. Not like when you met. He stares at you for a long moment before his hand slips between your legs. Your breath hitches as his fingers shove your underwear to the side, pressing in. He doesn’t look away from you as he swipes up before pulling his fingers out. They shine slightly, slick with the wetness that gathered from Rindou’s foot and the way the men have come to tease you, to try to make you react to them to exacerbate your punishment. 

He holds them up between you before moving them to your mouth. You open instantly, letting Mikey press his fingers down on your tongue. You close your lips around them, sucking softly and trying to clean yourself off of him. 

“Trying hard to earn my forgiveness, aren’t you?” he says. 

You nod, moving your tongue over his fingers until he shoves them further down your throat until you choke. Tears build up in your eyes instantly. He keeps them there as you struggle to breathe before he pulls them out. 

You gasp for air, tears falling down your cheeks. A sharp smack against your ass makes you take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying. 

“You want my forgiveness. Earn it.”

⛓️

Your back is to his chest as you face the room. The music thumps in along with your heartbeat. You’re not sure where one stops and the other begins at this point. Smoke hangs in the air, a hazy mix of tobacco, marijuana and fog from the machines. It’s not enough. 

You rock your hips, trying to build the pleasure for both of you. Mikey is hard inside you, stretching you deliciously, one hand looped around the chain attached to your collar while the other rests on the side of the couch he sits on. You’re doing all the work, trying your best to get him off, to ignore the eyes of the Executives on you. You’ve seen some of them palming themselves already, trying to ease the tension building from the sight of you fucking their leader. 

You’d be more embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on this. It's not the first time they’ve watched you, but you’re usually somewhere more private. Not in the VIP section of a club, a open balcony where anyone could see you if they actually wanted to. The crowd would be able to hear you whining, desperate and needy, if it wasn’t for the music. You’re surprised but you don’t question the choice. None of them like sharing you and the last time someone else other than any of them walked in on you taking care of one of them, they ended up dead. 

“Mikey–” you groan, grinding your hips back into his. “Mikey, please,” you beg. You’re not allowed to cum until he lets you. 

The chain pulls suddenly, yanking your head back until you’re arching your back and your face is next to his. It hurts but you don’t dare complain. Not when you’ve managed to avoid it so far.

“You ordering me?” he asks. “You think you deserve to cum?” 

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, hands reaching to the collar, trying to ease some of the pressure. You deviate before you touch it, hearing one of the other men groan in disappointment that you’re still coherent enough to not get yourself into more trouble. Instead, you cup your breasts over the slip of a dress you wear. “‘m sorry…” you whine, trying to move your hips, to chase the high that’s building.

“Look at them.” 

Your eyes try to find the other men watching the two of you but the angle you’re currently forced into makes it difficult. 

“The only reason you’re not being fucked by them is because of me. Because I haven’t given them permission.” He thrusts his hips up, making you cry out in surprise at the sudden change. “I own you. You gave your life to me and here you are, fucking yourself on me, begging me for a release you don’t fucking deserve. You want to cum? Fucking beg for my forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, tears burning in your eyes from the pain of the position you’re in. “Mikey, I’m sorry! I’ll never run again! I swear! I’ll be good! Please, Mikey! I was wrong! I’m yours!”

“Hmm..” he doesn’t say anything else, but the pressure on your throat finally eases and you’re able to lean forward, breathing like normal again. You put your hands on his knees before going back to moving your hips, to using him to fuck yourself on at his orders. 

It doesn’t take long before he tires of your pace. His hand is on your throat, his other arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. He pulls you down, slamming you onto him. There’s nothing you can do but hold on, begging for a release he’s continued to refuse you. 

He breaks, pulling you down onto him, cock twitching as he cums inside. You moan at the feeling but it’s still not enough, not to get you off. You’re left on the cusp of your orgasm, feeling needy and desperate in a way that you’ve long gotten over hating yourself for. 

“Mikey, please..” you beg quietly.

He pulls you back, hand stroking softly against your hip as he presses his lips against the spot behind your ear. “You ever try to leave again, I’ll gift you to my men. All of them.” The threat freezes in your chest. It was one thing to be shared amongst the top men of Bonten. It was a whole other to be given to the men who made up the layers of the organization. You wouldn’t survive it. 

“I’ll be good,” you promise. 

He kisses your neck again before holding up the chain that’s attached to the collar around your neck. “Ran.”

You turn, looking to see the eldest Haitani grin before getting up to fetch you. There’s a prominent bulge in his pants as he takes the leash from Mikey. 

“Come on, baby. You gotta apologize to all of us,” he says with a smirk. “Think you can make it up to me too?”

“I expect her back when she’s done.”

You carefully climb off of Mikey’s lap, ignoring the feeling of Mikey’s release slipping out of you and trailing down your thigh, and follow Ran as he leads you by the chain toward the others. Regret churns in your stomach and you quickly shove it down. 

After all, you can only blame yourself. 

everything tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[anazitos]

MAMA'S BOY

Severus Snape loved his mother since he was born. He loves the looks of affection, the affectionate words, the games and movie nights.

He only cared about her. He loved his mom, she was the only one he could give or receive this love without being afraid.

He was mommy's little boy.

But this changed when his father beat him so much that poor Severus couldn't get up. His entire body hurt in an agonizing way, so much pain that he couldn't cry, much less get up. The worst part of it all was, he knew his mother was watching. Every punch, humiliation, kick. She was watching, standing behind the wall, not moving a muscle to help him.

And the best part, she didn't help him. It left him passed out on the kitchen floor, covered in injuries. It was only the next day, when Snape was still unconscious, that she helped him. Taking him off the kitchen floor, taking him to the bedroom and bandaging his wounds. But that doesn't change the feeling of abandonment that Snape felt when he looked at his mother standing in the kitchen doing nothing, even though she was a witch.

But it was okay, it was okay. She feared her father, and Snape couldn't blame her. She didn't know what to do or act. Everything was gone.

But then it started more often. His oai would arrive drunk and beat him, leaving him passed out on the floor. And his mother didn't help him, only the next day. Then he realized that she enjoyed these moments. She was grateful for the few seconds that she wasn't the one taking the punches, being left bloody on the floor like before.

She was grateful that her son was being beaten instead of her. Snape didn't know what to make of this realization. No, this couldn't be his mother, his beloved mother.

She always protected him from insults and violence, every time her father beat her she would step forward and defend her son with nails and blood. But looking at her, sitting in the room directing her gaze to nothingness. He realized, that she is nothing more than a hollow shell. And that her beloved mother died, leaving only a woman with an insatiable thirst for survival.

Watching her, Snape confirmed one thing. That he would be just like her. An empty hollow shell incapable of feeling any feeling or instinct other than survival. Mommy's little boy would turn out to be someone as rotten inside as she was.

The woman who raised him.

[rubra-wav]

Snap (part 2) - Honesty

Snap (Part 1) - Deception

A/N: Listen man, I wish I could just say that Vox would just accept 'I love you' with his secret situationship he's terrified of losing and just say it back, fluff instantly ensuing, but we all know that would not be accurate at all.

Ow.

Td;lr for this one for the people who don't wanna read the actual smut - reader who's in a secretly mutually requited situationship with him catches Vox looking at them through cameras and decides to 'punish' him for it. In the end, though, the reader ends up accidentally telling them they love him. This fic ensues. Also, flower symbolism <3

Cw: rating 18+ (there's no smut, but it's part 2 of smut, so yeah), Vox is insecure and delulu as hell, reference to staticmoth/toxic/abusive relationship stuff, angsty asf, ref to physical abuse, miscommunication, hella infuriating - we get there eventually though, gn reader

There was one unbending, unspoken rule between the two of you ; that even with how obviously attracted to one another you were, you would never attempt to push it further.

You had your life, and Vox had his. His image being the clearly most important thing to him that trumped whatever you two had.

Even if your attraction to one-another became far more than just physical, you'd never push it further than friends with benefits for fear of it being unrequited and ruining everything the two of you had.

'I love you.' Spoken hazily, without a second thought however, changed that completely.

It broke all of what your relationship was fundamentally built upon; that being hiding your true feelings beyond what was physical for one another.

'I love you', spoken in your bedroom, under the eyes of the wilting red flowers that had now exposed not one but two deceptions, ruined everything you had going.

Or at least, that's what it initially seemed like.

Vox felt his heart go crazy at the words you'd just spoken, him feeling even more over the moon then he already did that you weren't going to kick him to the curb.

But then his heart dropped again as he realised what must have been really happening.

His face burnt with anger as you said those words, him sitting up and pushing you off of him.

"Do not say that to me." He growled out, standing up and moving awkwardly with what had just transpired to go put his clothes back on to go leave.

He'd done this before, and he really thought that this would be different, that his feelings for you wouldn't be played with like his were constantly his in his situationship with Val.

But here you were, telling him you loved him after fucking him and only after fucking just like he did.

How long would it take for you to start starting undesireable fights with him for no reason?

How long would it also take for the security you provided to be ripped away from him?

How long would it take until you moved on to find someone else because he wasn't enough for you.

How long would it take before he's always option 2 whenever that other person you want isn't available? When he's always just the afterthought and nothing more.

Your eyes widened in shock, and a wave of pain and regret washed over you. You didn't see the real reason he was flipping out, just seeing the man you loved telling you not to express that to him. Just saw your worst fears being confirmed.

You didn't have the guts to pry further to find the true root with your own hurt, unable to take his response as anything but bitter rejection of your feelings.

Vox didn't see the way you crumpled, expression fucking ruined behind him as unshed tears made your eyes hazy. "Right.. sorry." You apologised quietly to receive no response but him letting out a sound that expressed clear disappointment as he left your room without another glance towards you.

As Vox reached for the door, though, now out of eyeshot of you, he hesitated for a second. Tears once again formed in his eyes for what's the umpteenth time tonight.

His hand hovered above the doorknob as he considered a different thought process. Maybe you were actually being serious. Maybe this was real.

He grit his teeth, shaking his head and taking the only light in the house with himself as he left with bitter pain in his chest. He would not allow himself to have another Val in his life.

The door shut behind him with a sound that weighed heavy on your shoulders as the house became completely and utterly silent.

You sat with your head between your knees on your bed, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger forming a truly disgusting concoction of emotions inside of you.

You'd discovered he'd been doing this greatly violating thing and had given him a second chance, only for him to walk out on you because you told him you loved him? Of fucking course. It wasn't even surprising at this point. It was Vox.

You shook your head as you laid down on your bed, looking at the ceiling as tears blurred your already shit vision in the darkness, your heart in a million pieces.

Just what had you been expecting exactly? It was clear that the only person he had eyes for was Valentino, even if the piece of shit was a horrible boyfriend through and through. You'd been there many a time after their fights for him only to come crawling right back to the fucker.

Of course, he'd walk out on his side piece telling them they loved him. Your strange situationship with one another was never going to ever be anything but second to his real love; an abusive asshole who didn't love him and only showed up again when he got bored of his other toys.

You blinked into the darkness as you tiredly leaned over to the light on your bedside table, feeling for it and flicking the switch.

It didn't come on as it clicked.

Of course he'd caused the damn lights to break.

You growled in annoyance, turning over onto your side and curling up in a ball.

You'd fallen for such a piece of shit and allowed all that was good with him to slip away in one stupid moment of peace with him after a hell of a lot of pent up anger towards him.

It was stupid, really, that you'd be so upset over what was so obviously going to happen from the get-go.

It still hurt, though. So fucking much.

-

The next week was hard, to say the very least. In the whole fiasco with punishing Vox, he'd fried your phone as well as your lights so you now didn't have one.

He usually supplied you with new ones when this happened, but obviously, no Vox around meant no new phone.

His lack of effort to attempt to contact you pissed you off frankly. You repeatedly attempted to try and speak with him in person, but you just kept getting told to leave by his staff.

Your relationship wasn't exactly public, and you were sure he'd blow up rather than go silent on you if you told them you were together to try to get him to come out of hiding from you like a little bitch, so you just let bygones be bygones for now.

The man child could come crawling back to you whenever he got sick of whatever (you expected at least) he had going on with Val again, you weren't going to let any of this bullshit slide though even if he came back on his knees beggin for forgiveness. (Something that would, of course, never happen. Vox didn't do apologies. Not real ones at least.)

You were frankly done as fuck with him and his constant unending string of bullshit he refused to take responsibility for.

Your anger just worsened the longer he was absent. You almost wanted the thought that he was done with you this time to be true, despite the stupid fucking part of you that wanted him to come back.

Under all this bullshit and masks he wore; he was so different. You wished you could just be with that part of him, the real parts he hesitated each time to show to you because it was imperfect and a fucking mess. But of course, that would never happen. It was truly a fantasy.

After 6 days of nothing, the first sign of him showed up finally. A letter to your house saying he wanted to see you to 'talk'.

-

Vox knew damn well he was being completely unfair to you doing this, but he couldn't bring himself to back down and apologise.

He didn't make mistakes.

At least, that's how he liked to act. He'd rather hang onto his bullshit knowing full well it's bullshit until the end of time than ever admit fault.

After the incident, he'd spiralled completely. Privately having an angry breakdown about it, humiliated that he'd let himself fall into yet another Valentino situation.

It was easier to just take it out on you than actually hold himself responsible for shit and do the disgusting, pathetic practice of crawling back to you and apologising.

So even though he knew damn well that either way he was in the wrong, just expecting you had turned out to be another mistake along his path of failed lovers, he went silent on you rather then actually communicating at all. Naturally.

It probably looked to you like he'd run off, not giving a single shit anymore, but that was far as it gets from the truth. It was eating away at him. The rare feeling of genuine regret and guilt for his actions shocked him, and it only grew with each passing day.

He couldn't just let things end like this, he needed some... one last interaction with you before not seeing you again. As much as he had genuine feelings for you, he would not allow what he thought was going on to progress any farther.

As he lay in bed on his back, looking up at his ceiling he heart ached as that stupid goddamn thought entered it again. The idiotic idea that you could be actually telling the truth. He hated how it entered his mind and he had to again and again shoot it down to not fucking kid himself.

You didn't actually love him.

Never in a million years would he actually fall in love with someone and have them feel the exact same.

... right?

He pressed his hands over his eyes as his mandatory 'sleep' mode began to shut him off for the night. Tomorrow he would see you for the last time. Shut down what was happening before it began.

What he thought was happening between the two of you.

-

You almost didn't want to go and actually see him, funnily enough. You'd been trying desperately to go and talk to him for the past week, and it would feel pretty good to know he got stood up.

Not that it was really much of a place to be stood up.

For some reason Vox had told you to meet up with him in a secluded grassy field fairly in the middle of nowhere. To talk without any risk at all of people hearing, you guessed.

Still, it was weird. This was the type of shit murderers did, not your ultra-rich situationship. Whatever.

You forced yourself to keep walking up the hill despite really not wanting to see him. He was standing at the top facing away from you with his hands in his pockets, his face casting blue light down over the immediate grass before him.

As your crunching footsteps echoed out in the mostly silent clearing, he turned around to look down at you.

For agonising seconds, you two just stood there silently, staring at one another. The sound of distant insects, and the slight breeze passing through the leaves of outstretched tree branches the only sound.

He looked perfect as always, but his expression was unsure, hesitant as he looked at you.

Your heart truly fucking ached terribly, and you hated it. You fought the angry tears that you know would start spilling the probably second you heard his voice.

"What is it then." Your voice was quiet, but your words hung as heavy on his shoulders as it could get.

Vox gulped, clearing the lump in his throat, and slipped on a brave face. "I just wanted to see you one last time. I figured it would be shitty of me to.. break up? Over text." He said casually despite the agonising pit that felt like it was consuming him.

You grit your teeth, emotions swelling and bubbling out in a short, humourless bark of laughter. "So that's how it is, huh?" Your voice was thick with the constricting string of strong emotions bubbling up in your chest. You were pissed, the fact he called you out here just to 'break up' with you face to face was an asshole move even for him, sad that you were being told this bullshit, but also just fucking confused under all of that.

Vox would have just left and rode off into the hills and never would do this if he didn't actually give a fuck, so what the hell was happening?

Vox cringed hearing your tone, expression faltering for just a moment before slipping back on. "... yes?" He said it to sound concise, but it came out a question. He cringed inwardly.

You squinted at him, unshed tears making his bright face in comparison to the night all the more blurry with vectors of light messing with you.

His expression was unsure as could be, he wasn't looking you in the eye, and he was fidgeting with his hands. It's like he was expecting something from you. Something bad?

You briefly thought about how you'd seen him acting when he'd come to you after Val had hurt him and broken his screen after he'd gotten snippy with him.

That's when two things hit you like the worlds biggest truck. Why you were so fucking confused and had some nagging thought eating at you that you couldn't properly grasp up until now.

The first; He fucking clearly had feelings for you as well.

The second; He was expecting you to physically lash out at him. Anticipating some sort of Val level breakdown over you.

What the fuck was happening right now?

He would not have come out here if he didn't care at all, and certain times you thought he may have even felt possibly the same way you had.

So why in the fucking world had he stormed out of your house when you told him you had feelings for him as well?

Vox watched your progression of emotions as you didn't respond for a while with confusion, heart beating quick as his tenseness anticipating some massive blow up from you slowly eased off. Your next question caught him all the more off guard.

"Why did you call me out here to talk face to face to break things off?" You asked, brow furrowed and your expression equally confused, trying to read his intentions. You continued, blinking hard to try to clear your wet eyes so you could actually clearly see. One rolled down your cheek in the process, and Vox looked even more startled by it than the question.

"If you don't love me too, even a little bit, then why would you call me out here to break up with me face to face." You demanded an answer more than asked a question, expression hard.

He looked stunned at you, not believing what he was hearing, sputtering before letting out a strangled response. ".. No, you don't." He said.

You arched a brow at him in confusion. "Wha-" he cut you off.

"You don't love me! That was just some bullshit to play with my emotions after we fucked!" Suddenly Vox was angry as all hell, jumping to another assumption as he walked closer to you, towering over you and furious, the sound of electricity crackling loudly as his system begun to get overwhelmed quickly.

"And no-ow you're trying to convince me to not fucking leave!" Vox turned to side, laughing humorlessly and pressing his palm to his head. "God, I was right. You're just like h-i-im!" His words glitched with his overwhelming anger as he looked to the side at you.

You looked at him as everything fell into place, and suddenly, you were also furious. "Oh for fuck sake, Vox!" You yelled, stepping back. "Has all this shit happened because this whole time, all you've been thinking about is Val?" Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you gripped his face, forcing him to look you straight in the eye as you spoke.

"I am not lying you insecure dumbass!" Vox's anger faltered as he watched your genuinely furious expression, a mess of tears and painful emotions. Not wanting to back down, however, he went to bite back some vile retort that never made it from his lips as you interrupted him.

"I said I love you then because I actually am in love with you! And I have been for ages at this goddamn point!" You let go off his face as his expression flickers to unsureness.

You press your hands into either side of your head as you look to the ground. "I fucking see you walk back to that asshole time and time again and my heart breaks each time because I actually love you and would treat you right like he doesn't!" Your voice cracks as you yell at him.

You don't see him begin flushing darkly and startled, now sparking in an entirely different way, extremely taken aback as he finally began actually listening to the sound of anything but his own voice.

"If you had just communicated like an adult instead of running off like an immature child, none of this would have happened. Do you understand that? Or are you too busy projecting your unresolved bullshit onto me to see that?" You look him in the eye again, your fury fading into severe emotional exhaustion after the past week.

"I hate that I love someone like you." You growled out through clenched teeth before turning away from the man who was stunned into utter silence outside of the occasional zapping sound, and began to walk away, shoulders hunched and fists clenched as you trembled.

Vox stood in place, staring dumbly at your back as you walked away feeling a nauseating pit of guilt eating him alive. He had no idea what the hell to do.

If anyone else had spoken to him that way he'd be utterly furious, compensating for all hurt going on within him, but even he couldn't project that shit onto you after what was so clearly true was spat at him. The extremely ugly truth of this whole situation.

He'd fucked up so goddamn bad, so bad he couldn't even lie to himself on that like usual.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest as he replayed your words again and again in his mind. 'I hate that I love someone like you.'

His mouth opened and shut as he fought to try find his voice again as he began crying, your silhouette making it hurt all the more the further you got away from him.

I hate that I love someone like you.

I hate that I love someone like you.

It stung like hell. Rightfully.

Someone he could have a genuine relationship with. Not some one-sided bullshit. Not some toxic requited relationship with someone who'd act as a doormat to his behaviour. You were slipping through his fingers with every second further he hesitated.

He forced himself to go after you despite how frozen he was, thoughts running a dizzying mess in his mind.

You turned back to him with an expression that was a conflicting mixture of relief and irritation that he was jogging after you.

The next words felt like agony for him to say, but despite his ego he forced himself. You had begun to do what no one could - actually started to change him. The thought filled him with a mixture of fear, but also sent warmth flooding through his chest.

"I'm sorry." He said as he caught your hand in his. "I'm sorry I-I..." he trailed off, words catching in his throat as embarrassment clearly burned in his expression.

He forced his red eyes to look into your surprised tired ones though, gulping. It caused his glitching to only worsen, but he kept his eyes on yours anyways.

"I'm sorry that I did-n-n't just talk to you. I sh-should have just. I shouldn't have assumed shit. You aren't Val, it's just hard-" He stopped himself, correcting himself. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have done that. Yo-ou-ou-ou-" You took a deep breath through your nose and turned around to face him properly, waiting while he stopped glitching and showcasing a flashing error message enough to get another word out.

His monitor stopped cutting out after a few seconds with a particularly loud zap, red eyes once again looking into yours, a claw coming up to cup your cheek - the gesture causing your expression to once again crumple and start crying despite your smarter parts telling you to not. "You deserved - deserve better than that."

You truly hated that you loved this absolute dumbass. Of all people, why did it have to be the guy who looked like he had a stick being shoved painfully up his ass as he simply said the words 'I'm sorry' after creating this dumpster fire of a situation?

You sighed heavily, leaning into his hand while closing your eyes, it pleasantly cold on your cheek in comparison to your overly warm, puffy face.

Vox grit his teeth, utter humiliation permeating every bit of him.

He couldn't believe he'd ever said such a disgusting thing out loud.

But, the way you leaned into his touch with your eyes fluttering shut made it worth it.

The sound of the surrounding environment filled the air as the warm moment was allowed to sit in peace for a few seconds. Just quiet which washed over you very welcome after everything, and in contrast made Vox all the more antsy.

Vox interrupted everything with an awkward sound clearing his throat, smiling very tensely. "Please tell me I don't have to say sorry again." He half-jokingly (but really more seriously) said.

You slowly opened your eyes again, looking up at him through your lashes. "Mmm. I'm not sure if I quite believe you regret everything yet," you said as if thinking about it. "Maybe if you get down on your knees and grovel a bit, I'll consider it." You smirked teasingly.

Vox let out an irritated huff at the very obvious joking remark but figured it was better he didn't bite back with his usual attitude right now.

You chuckled, and gently gripped either side of his screen as you pulled his face close to yours, very serious now.

"I'll make this clear right now: I do not forgive you. All of this was ridiculous, and your bad actions, which you haven't yet actually acted to remedy, are stacking up. You understand that, right?" He grit his teeth, eyes looking away from you but still slowly nodding begrudgingly. You relaxed a bit, exhaling deeply. "Good." You said, slightly smiling at his pouting expression.

You stood on your tip toes, pressing a kiss on his screen where his cheek should have been. Vox looked back at you, smiling slightly.

"Come on, it's been a week, is that all I get?" He asked, immediately regretting it as you looked annoyed once again.

You shook your head, glaring at him. "Don't push it." You growled, before leaning in and kissing him much more deeply anyways.

Your love was going to be rocky for sure, but as staticky lips moved against yours passionately, you decided that you didn't mind. Whether that would come to be a stupid decision or not, would show itself further down the line. For now, you just wanted to stay in the present.

This part 2 was a long damn time coming goddamn.

I'm gonna be so fr, I was tempted to make this just be angst in the end because oof. But no, I was feeling nice. So you get somewhat actually healing his shitty maladaptive traits Vox.

I'm almost considering making more to this, but also God, there's so much more I'm working on as well 💀 I wish i had more time.

Masterlist

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter sixteen: Boo!

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Reader scares Carlos, Max is overprotective, an unexpected visitor appears

Warnings: alcohol consumption, survivors guilt, arguing

Notes: After much deliberation, I've decided to let my affinity for even numbers win.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The sun is barely peaking over the edges of the sky as her and Lando walk hand in hand around the hungararing. Charles needed to be at the paddock early for his media duties. The two had decided to go with since they were up and let Max and Oscar sleep until the last minute.

The walk is peaceful. The shared airpods are playing soft music that Lando picked. Occasionally, he spins her around, or they stop to dance horribly.

It's so early that even the pitlane is empty. The occasional sound of tools can be heard, but no souls can be seen.

The music and Lando are so distracting that she doesn't notice anyone sneaking behind her. Hands grab her shoulder, which pulls a terrified gasp out of her. Instincts take over as she throws whoever it is behind her into the nearest wall. It's not hard, just enough to subdue. And scare- she supposes.

She holds whoever it was as her breath starts to even out. She can hear Lando and Charles laughing incredibly hard. Which is weird, because then who is she-?

"Carlos?!"

She releases her hold on him, and the spainard sinks to the ground. His expressions go through the five stages of grief.

"I told you not to scare her mate!" Charles is kneeling over in laughter.

She rushes to help him up. And to her shock, he lets her. She would have expected him to run in fear. Bolt to the nearest asylum and tell them to come get her.

"So, you're some kind of superhero? Or am I imagining things? Or are you really that strong?" Carlos asks questions faster than she could process. She's startled, overwhelmed, and frankly confused.

Charles comes to her rescue with his arms around her waist. "She's our superhero. If you tell anyone, you're dead."

"She looks like she feels bad for just shoving me against the wall."

"I never said it would be her doing the killing."

~~~~~

Charles flinches as Max slams the door behind him. He hates when any of them is angry. Max, however, has to be the worst.

Not because of anything he's doing wrong. The Dutch simply struggles to communicate when his emotions are flaring higher than normal. Charles hates seeing him so upset when all he wants is to keep them safe and happy.

He is currently curled up on the bed next to Lando. Oscar is sitting on one of the plush lounge chairs, and the female is curled up on a bar stool, not looking at anyone. She looked like she might cry. When Charles called Max to explain what had happened, he was not happy and started ranting over the speaker. Now she is sat there, blaming herself for messing things up.

"Carlos is coming over tonight, so we can explain this to him, yes?" Max asks the room. They all nod to confirm it. "I don't understand how this happened. We have no idea how Carlos is going to respond."

"He seemed fine when we left-"

"-But that doesn't guarantee he won't tell anybody." Max cut off Lando, and the Brit shrinks into Charles with a look of defeat.

Max then turns his attention to the female. The emotionally unstable girl who hadn't even been living in a proper home for that long. Who had immediately concluded she had ruined their lives once again (not that she ever did, this was her conclusion that Charles can't see how she came to).

"I would've expected you to at least have seen something by now. I thought your visions were to prevent these incidents, but they always seem to happen regardless." Max's volume rises as he speaks. His hand movements get more aggressive, and he can see the female getting more glassy eyed by the second. "It's so hard to keep you safe when you let things like this happen!"

Oh, Charles is going to kill him. But he'll have to do it later because before anyone can stop her, she is running out of the room. Only stopping to grab her shoes.

"Max Emilian Verstappen, I have half a mind to drag by the neck to Sebastian to explain this one to him." Seethes the Monegasque.

It's not often that they argue. Having more of them in a relationship means more arguments, but it also means more mediators. People who are neutral to help them resolve the issue.

Max already looks like he knows he messed up. "I didn't... I- I didn't mean it like that." He stutters out. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes.

Charles sighs in frustration. "Maybe we know that, but she takes things litterally." He goes through possible options. "I think we should give it an hour before we try to find her. Let her have some space first."

"Not sure how we're going to find her." Oscar points to where her phone lay. "Can't see her location if her phone isn't with her."

~~~~~

She's not sure where she's going. Just walking to clear her head. Figure things out. Understand why she can't just do things right.

Maybe Max is right. Maybe this really is all her fault. She let this all happen. She could've stopped it if she had more control over these stupid abilities.

She knows her mind is going to a dark place. It's a place she hadn't been for so long. But the voices that aren't hers are pulling her under water. She can't breathe knowing she messed up yet again. How many failures are needed to prove she's not meant to continue this life.

Her father had said the same thing Max had. Over and over, every day, the reason why he took everything from her. Because she had let her mother die and still doesn't have the strength to bring her back.

Why should she live? Her mother hadn't deserved her fate. Neither had any of her bloodline who came before her. Why should she be allowed to live freely when none of them had?

She must have blacked out while walking. Somehow, finding herself tucked away in a back alley, a bottle of alcohol in hand.

She didn't even know she had money. Furthermore, she doesn't even like alcohol normally. She supposes this isn't a normal occasion and instead takes a swig from the bottle. The burn in her throat distracts the thoughts in her brain.

She hears her name being called, but she's too apathetic to care. Yet as they continue to grow closer, she lets out a groan and shifts her weight upwards and against the wall. Her legs feel like they might give out from the weight. She falls, expecting to hit the concrete face first. Instead, she lands against another person.

"I've got you." Comes a familiar Australian accent. Oscar lowers her back onto the ground and assesses her for any injuries. "You forgot to take your phone with you. We've been searching for you for hours."

"Well, I guess Max can lecture me about it then. I'll add it to the compiling list of things I've done wrong."

Oscar isn't normally the most assertive person. He can be when he needs to, but he can also easily follow the flow of other people. This is one of those times where he needs to be. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were startled. You went defensive. Max knows what he said was wrong, and he didn't intend for it to come out that way." Her body is pulled into his. She hadn't realized how it had gotten late and that she is cold now. His body heat is comforting. "Come back with me and let Max apologize. Everyone is worried that you'd been taken again, and Carlos is at the room as well."

She can hear the waiver of anxiety in his voice. He hates not knowing where she is. It leaves too many possibilities for her to get hurt, or worse, taken away from him again.

Oscar helps her walk back to the hotel. The bottle of alcohol left behind in the alley for someone else to take advantage of. It's a long, wobbly walk where she feels anxiety building with every step. Even when they get to the door, she has half a mind to turn and run. Though she doubts she'd get very far.

Lando is the one to open the door. He looks as if he'd been crying. If he was, he didn't say anything.

He helps Oscar get her to the larger then neccecary bathroom. Then she beelines straight for the empty bath. Her safe place.

"Max wants to apologize. Can I let him in?"

"Yeah, but can you stay, please?" She's not sure she can express things properly right now and may need Oscar's calm to help the two very emotional people through.

"Wouldn't think of leaving."

He opens the door and summons Max over. It's an awkward few moments as the two get comfortable. She fiddles with her hands while they do so.

Max sighs. His eyes are red and tired. His face settled in his constantly moving hands. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I wasn't thinking properly and I was scared. Which is not an excuse I know-"

"I forgive you. It's not like I handled it well, either."

"I just want you to be safe. You've been through so much already that I just want to see you not worry yourself sick." They look at each other now. Really take in the hurt and worry that paint the feature of the other.

Oscar decides to give them a few moments alone before joining the others. Lando had once compared their post argument affection to remind them they are okay to aftercare. She deems them very different. In this case, both her and Max were high on emotions, so they did and said things that weren't right. But they'd all come to an agreement that when there are apologies made and forgiveness granted that they don't hold onto it. At the end of the day, they are human, and humans do stupid things. This is a promise that they are going to be fine.

~~~~~

Oscar isn't sure what he's expecting to happen when the two step out of the room, but it certainly wasn't Carlos being star struck.

"I have so many questions."

"You always have questions."

"I think he always has opinions, actually."

Oscar rolls his eyes. Carlos could ask all he wanted, but he probably would get the answers he's looking for. There is some part of him that knows Carlos commands and controls his environment. Yet the other side of him sees what Charles sees: a funny and playful Spaniard. Plus, the Aussie is new to all of this, and if anything, he can't help but feel mildly anxious.

"Have you always had your powers?" Carlos looks at the female with curiosity in his eyes.

"Yes, I was born with them." His eyes flicker to Max as the Dutch places his hand on her lower back. She seems to flinch at the question itself. As if having to recall the answer also brought with it memories.

Carlos keeps asking more specific questions, prying further into the females past. She does her best to answer as many as possible, but she's gradually steeping into a more anxious state.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Max pulls the girl into him, and her demeanor shifts again. Relaxed from feeling safe in his arms. “Jack, can you take her to the other room?”

Oscar simply nods and gently leads the female to the connected room. Two rooms since apparently it’s difficult for them to all sleep comfortably in the same bed that isn’t built for five. There have been many angry physios because they were falling off the bed or settling for the floor. So, they had to change tactics.

When he closes the door behind him, the two throw themselves into bed. “Does Max not want us in there for a reason?”

“Do you want to be in there still? Because I’m happy to sleep.”

He will not get to sleep yet, however, because there is a knock on the door. Oscar groans in exhaustion and annoyance. How had they managed to know what room they were in? Doesn’t anyone sleep these days?!

Oscar takes his sweet time getting up and meandering to the door. He swings it open with more attitude than neccacary, but to his shock, there is nobody on the other side.

A small box sits outside the door. For everything that has happened, a box is probably the least of their worries. Oscar, however, still gets a chill up his spine when he bring it inside the space.

"A package? Did you see from who?"

"A ghost? An invisible man?"

"No need to be rude..."

Oscar sighs and starts ripping open the small cardboard box. "Sorry. I'm just tired -" he catches a glimpse of the contents. "A whole box for a single note!"

The girl looks at his with curiosity. If she weren't so damn cute, he would close the box and think about it later. Instead, he unfolds the paper. "It's a letter... from your father."

~

Lando watches the older boys intently. Carlos and Max have been going back and forth for awhile now.

“Have you considered that maybe this is a condition?”

“Have you considered that her father is a psycho?”

Carlos had been trying to figure out the reasons behind everything. There is one, technically speaking, but it isn’t their place to share that information.

“I know you want to protect her Max, but maybe you should consider visiting the the guy and asking him about it.” Carlos gets up off the bed and stands in front of Max. His stance is loose and relaxed. “She looks like she’s in pain and ready to break at any second.” He claps Max on the shoulder before heading out of the room.

Lando looks at the older two. “Well that was eventful.”

Max flops down in between himself and Charles. The groan he lets out is muffled by the pillows. “I don’t like his tone.”

“His tone? Or the fact maybe he was into something?” Charles quirks his eyebrows.

“Both.”

The three of them pull back the covers after getting ready for bed. Lando having checked that Oscar and their superhero of a girlfriend are at least in bed.

“On the bright side, we can’t even think about that until after this weekend. We’ve got driving to do still.”

~

Names with lines through them were unable to be tagged.

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @be-your-coffee-pot @copper-boom @allmyfanfavorites @sadg3

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: I Don't Wanna Do This

When you woke up the next morning, you expected to feel the warm press of Jake against you. But you didn't. You kept your eyes closed, praying that he was just in the bathroom or downstairs.

But when you rolled over and felt the cold sheets and sat up to see that your room was empty, your worst fears had been confirmed.

Jake had left in the middle of the night.

He had told you he was going to stay and he didn't. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't will the tears away. You flopped back on your bed and buried your head in your pillow, and sobbed.

Jake had broken your heart.

He'd been splintering pieces off it off for over a year, but this time—this time was the final swing of the axe.

Really, you should have known this was coming. You should have known you were going to get hurt, but it still didn't make the heartbreak hurt any less.

You wanted to spend the day buried in your sheets and feeling sorry for yourself, but the longer you laid there, the more you realized Jake's scent surrounded you.

So, you stripped your bed and shoved your bedding into your washing machine and covered them with more soap and fabric softener than necessary. If that didn't get his scent off of them, you might just burn your sheets and get some new ones. You'd been looking for a reason to go to Target anyway.

Speaking of burning, when you flopped down on your naked bed and tried to relax, you realized that Jake's scent had permeated you pillows, too.

"Fuck!" You screamed as you threw each one of then off your bed and they hit the wall with a soft thud. As you flung the final pillow, you missed the wall and knocked the picture frame on your dresser off. It clattered to the floor and shattered.

You sighed and begrudgingly got up. You didn't want to step on broken glass later.

You knelt down and picked up the pieces of glass and grabbed the frame. More tears came to your eyes as you looked at the image.

Looking back at you was a picture of a slightly younger you and Jake, with big bright smiles. It was taken right after the two of you got your first confirmed air to air kill. You can still remember the anxiety you felt as you helped guide him in taking down that Cold War museum piece.

You can also remember the pride that you felt when everyone cheered for you when the two of you landed on the carrier.

That day and that night would change the relationship you and Jake had in more ways than one.

...................

Facing death together is a connection that can only be understood by a few.

But what changed even more was that you and Jake crossed the line that the two of you had been tip-toeing around for months.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Jake came to your bunk. You had been fortunate enough to not have a roommate.

When you heard the knock on your door, you weren't sure who it could be. You certainly weren't expecting to find Jake, shirtless, grey sweatpants slung low on his hip, still wet from his shower, standing there.

He stood there silently with wide eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Jake. Wha—" You weren't sure what to say.

"Glow— Y/N," He breathed out as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Tell me to go. Tell me you don't feel what I feel. Tell me we shouldn't do this." He had whispered to you.

You'd stood there, taking him in. You knew that the two of you could never come back from this. That this was the point of no return.

If you'd known, then what you know now, you would have sent him packing. Instead, you'd reached out, looped your fingers around the chain of his dog tags, and pulled him against you.

The first time your lips met, you knew you were a goner. You knew that your relationship with him would never be the same.

That was the first night you had gotten a taste of him. It was the night that he ruined all other men for you. And, it was the first of many nights that he had loved you and then left your bed.

................

After cleaning, you threw on some clothes and went to Target to get new pillows and some, "I feel sorry for myself because I'm facing the consequences of my own actions," snacks and wine.

Around Saturday afternoon, Jake realized that he had fucked up. He had really fucked up. He realized that he should have stayed and that this morning he should have made you french toast and told you that he cared about you, that he loved you.

He should have brought his midnight confession into the light of day, but he didn't. Jake didn't because he was a coward, and because he could stand the thought of you not loving him back.

He got out his phone and tried to call you. You sent him to voice-mail after one ring. He deserved that. Jake tried over and over again and sent you text after text, begging for you to talk to him.

He was half tempted to drive to your house and bang on your door until you let him in, or he could just use the extra key you'd gifted him. But, he thought better of it.

Instead, he went to the Hard Deck with the rest of the squad.

When they asked about you, Jake lied and said that you weren't feeling well. Maybe it wasn't a whole lie. You probably did feel like shit right now, and it was his fault. He was the one that burned the two of you down.

He went through the night wearing a mask. He put on his million dollar grin and Texas sized ego and went through motions. Some blonde by the bar had tried to hit on him, but he turned her down.

She'd laughed at his jokes, twirled her hair, been a little too touchy feeling and gave him her best fuck me eyes, but it didn't matter. She wasn't you.

Jake ended up calling it an early night after that.

By Sunday night, Jake still hadn't heard from you, and he was worried. He threw logic out the window and drove to your house. He wanted to make sure you were alive at least.

When he turned onto your street, he parked across from your cottage. The lights in your bedroom were on. He so badly wanted to walk up and knock on your door, but before he could get the courage too, he saw the light turn off, casting your room into darkness.

Jake quietly drove back home to prepare himself to face you tomorrow.

On Monday morning, both you and Jake drug out your morning routine as long as possible.

When you entered the briefing room on base, you noticed Jake in his normal seat at the front of the room like the kiss-ass he'd always been that you had always teased him for.

You also noticed what appeared to be your favorite iced latte sitting on the table next to him. You deliberately sat in the very back of the classroom and blatantly ignored him when he turned to find you before Maverick got started. He'd silently gestured to the coffee and nodded his head for you to come sit next to him. You flipped him off.

As you approach the Super Hornet, you ignored Jake and his stupid perfect smile and his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect hand outstretched to help you up.

"I don't need your help." You said to him coldly.

"Glow. Can I— can we please talk?" Jake asked you as he climbed into his set.

"No, I don't want to hear your stupid, half-assed excuse of an apology." You sneered at him.

"Glow—can you just let me explain." Jake tried to defend himself.

"There is literally no explanation that you can give me that would be good enough. Now, can we please just get through this exercise. The sooner we complete it, the sooner I can get away from you and can stop staring at the back of your big-ass head." You spat.

Jake took a deep breath.

He deserved that.

That day, the two of you flew the worst you had ever flown together. Once you were back on the ground, you quickly made a beeline for the locker room.

You slamed your things in, showered, and left.

For the rest of the week, you refused to talk to Jake, unless it was to give him directions, that he didn't follow, in the sky.

Jake could take you yelling and screaming at him. He could take you beating his chest while you cried angry tears and told him he was a son of a bitch. He could take any kind of verbal or physical spar you could dish out.

But what he couldn't take was the silent treatment. He hated that you were icing him out.

Everyone had noticed the tension.

Jake had gone back to his old ways of thinking he was God's gift to the Navy.

"Hey Hangman? Mind if I ask you a personal question? What's up with you and Glow? Trouble in paradise?" Rooster had asked him Friday in the locker room.

Jake slamed his locker. "It's none of your fucking business, Chicken Shit!" Jake yelled before storming out.

"Well, he hasn't changed a bit." Bob muttered under his breath. "Nope." Rooster replied.

Friday afternoon, you waited until everyone was gone before knocking on the door of Maverick's office.

"Lieutenant Briller? Is there something I can help you with?" Maverick asked when you walked in.

"Captain Mitchell, do you have a minute? I need to speak with you about something important." You said as you came in.

"Sure, come in, close the door. We can talk." Maverick said. You took a deep breath and closed the door behind you.

................

The weekend came, and went in a blur. It was the first weekend in a long time that you hadn't found yourself tangled up with Jake.

On Monday morning, you were nervous to walk into work, but Maverick had assured you that everything would be okay.

You took your seat at the back of the classroom and waited. Jake was still at the front, eyes forward and twirling a pen in his hand.

"Good morning, aviators." Maverick said as he greeted the group.

There were calls of good mornings around the room. A few moments later, Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates entered the room. Everyone stood at attention until told to sit.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sure you're wondering why Warlock and I are here today." Cyclone stared.

"Well, we've come to give some of you some new team assignments." He continued. Everyone sat up, eyes wide and filled with questions.

"These changes will not affect our single seat pilots, but due to extenuating circumstances, we are changing some of the pilot and weapons systems officer pairs." Cyclone stated.

"Lieutenant Bassett, you will no longer be flying with Omaha. You'll now be the WSO for Lieutenant Seresin." Simpson explained.

"Furthermore, Lieutenant Vikander, your new WSO will be Lieutenant Briller. These changes are effective immediately. That is all." Cyclone said before he and Warlock left the room.

Everyone was silent. You looked down at your boots. You could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you.

Even though Cyclone didn't say that you were the one who had said something, they all knew.

"This is bullshit." Jake spat before getting up and slamming his hands on the table in front of you.

"This is fucking bullshit, Glow! You give me the silent treatment and then go running to the superiors because you got your feelings hurt? What do you have to say for yourself?!" Jake screams in your face.

"I can't fly with someone I can't trust." You tell him.

"Can't trust? You can't trust me? What the fuck! That's the lamest fucking excuse I've ever heard. If anything, you're the one we can trust!" Jake yells at you.

"Hey! That's enough!" Maverick tells him.

"I can't believe you. You went behind my back!" Jake screams. "You've got be fucking kidding me. Please tell me this is a mistake!"

"Lieutenant Seresin!" Maverick warns him.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Hangman. But no, this isn't a mistake. I will not longer be your backseater." You tell him, trying to stay calm.

"No, you're right. It isn't a mistake. The only mistake was me begging Simpson and Bates to get you transferred here." Jake shouts at you as he crowds your space.

"What?" You say, taken aback.

"I said that the only mistake was me asking Bates and Simpson to have you transferred here from Lemoore. What? You think that you were good enough to get them to do that on your own? Because newsflash, you weren't. I begged them to have you placed here. The only reason that you are here is because of me. And you think that you can just go and run to the Admirals on me because I hurt your feelings? Who do you think you are?" Jake sneers.

"Hangman!" Rooster yells as he pulls him back.

"I never asked you to get me transferred here, Jake. You did that for you, not for me." You tell him as you try to hold your composure.

"You know what, I'm glad I won't be flying with you anymore, Glow. Maybe Halo won't slow me down." He spits, driving the knife deeper into your chest.

That's the last straw for you. You leap over the table, ready to claw his eyes out. Coyote catches you around the waist while Bob and Phoenix hold both of your shoulders back. Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy hang onto Jake, pulling him away from you.

"I'm cool, I'm cool he says as he brushes them off.

"Fuck you, Bagman!" You shout.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Jake begins, "You already have."

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams

[marsmarbles]

TeeHee have a DamselDuo one shot I wrote. They make me ill. Yay!! (1129 words)

Scott woke up in a cold sweat. His limbs ached, like he had been sleeping there for years instead of just a few minutes. As he surveyed himself for damage, memories came flooding back to him.

Burning hot lava. He had fallen in, been consumed by it while on his nether trip. He can still feel the fire licking his cheeks, encasing his face. Surveying his arms, he could still see burn scars that weren’t going away soon. They would stay to remind him of what he’s done, who he’s just killed.

Who he’s killed. Instead of his arms, his vision focuses on the chains trailing down his left arm. It fazes through the wall, because it’s not actually physical, just an illusion. Scott can see the vague color change from bright green to more of a lime, and he knows what color it will eventually become when it reaches his wrist.

You died. A voice whispers in his ear. Do you know what you did, Star?

“I’m pretty fucking aware, thanks.” He tries not to let the panic seep into his voice, but fails miserably. He can’t deal with the speakers right now, he has to check that he’s ok. Scott jumps out of bed, tripping his way out of the door of his cottage as he runs desperately to follow the chain. It turns from green to lime to a sickly yellow, confirming his worst fears. But really, they were confirmed the second he woke up.

He realizes halfway to his destination that he doesn’t have any of his items. His things were turned to ash in the lava, all of his iron armor and quartz lost to the fire. He ignores this best he can, trying not to think about the hours of work he wouldn’t get back.

Instead he runs faster, his footfalls echoing across the valley. Scott can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, whether from the stress or the wind whipping at his eyes, he isn’t sure. The other house comes into view, half built with three walls and several support beams. The chain shrinks as he gets closer, revealing the almost sunflower yellow. 

He rips open the door, looking around the house. Joel is in the middle of the floor, curled up with his head between his knees. “Joel, Joel, I’m so sorry! I-I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to, and-“

“Get out.”

“What?” 

Joel lifted his head from its perch. Scott realized his normally perfect hair was tangled everywhere, the green streak having changed to yellow. His eyes were a similar color, as were the chains around his wrists. He looked horrible, to put it lightly, as it was obvious he had shed at least a few tears. “You promised that you would keep me safe. You lied to me. Get out, Scott, before I go hunt down Pearl.”

“Joel, I-“

“Do you not have fucking ears? I said, ‘get out!’”

Scott flinched away, but refused to leave that easily. When Joel saw his stubborn expression, he just shuffled away and put his head down again. Scott looked around the half finished house, trying to find something, anything, he could use to apologize. He didn’t think he could stand for Joel to be mad at him, not like this.

Scott made his way around the house, doing his best to avoid the sullen figure on the floor. He opened the chests quietly, finding building supplies, stray snacks, and… a hairbrush. He smiled softly and picked it up, heading over to Joel and sitting behind him. 

Scott remembered the first time he had done this. It was their second day in these stupid games. He had discovered that, one, he was chained to Joel (obviously a cruel trick from the Watchers) and two, his hair was very long. Scott had experience with long hair, but Joel didn’t, and it showed. He had laughed and taken one of his ribbons, doing his best to take the leaves and sticks out of his hair before he braided it to match his. That was the first time he had seen Joel genuinely smile at him.

Now he took his hair again in his hands, humming as he brushed it out. Joel let him, keeping his head down. Slowly, he untangled the knots. It was hard work, considering how messy it was, but he finished soon enough. Softly putting the brush down, he split the mass into three strands and started braiding them together. Joel had lifted his head up at that point, not quite a pleased expression on his face, but it was close enough for Scott.

When he had finished, he used a stray ribbon he had (yellow, how ironic) to tie the end so it would stay. Scott silently slid around so he was facing Joel’s face now, and clasped his hands.

“I know there’s no real way I can apologize for what I’ve done, but I truly am sorry. I will do my best to be more careful. I-I woke up, and I was so afraid I had lost you, and-“ He took a shaky breath. “I am so, so sorry. I understand if you can’t forgive me. I’ll leave no-“ Scott stood to walk towards the door, but a hand caught his wrist and pulled him back down.

“I,” Joel took a breath. “I can forgive you. It’s fine, it would happen one day, we knew it was coming.” Joel offered him a toothy grin. “I still hate you though.”

Scott let out a wet laugh. “I love you too, Joel.” He dragged him into a hug, placing his face into his shoulder. “I love you too.”

The repetition meant something, something deeper that neither of them wanted to admit. When Scott pulled away, he offered a smile before he stood. “I’ll go tell Lizzie and Pearl what happened. I’ll be over tonight though.”

When he was less than fifteen feet from the house, an annoying voice spoke in his ear once again. 

Ooohhh, someone has a crush.

“I have standards. I don’t just fall for every guy I meet, you know.”

I don’t know, that seemed to be the case with Jimmy and Martyn and-

“Stop right there! Nope, nope, I will not have the gods metaling in my romantic life. That is something I would like to have control over, thank you very much.”

All in due time, Star.

The Speaker snickered as it flew away. Scott scoffed and kept walking, towards the house that Lizzie and Pearl inhabited. So what if he liked Joel a little more than normal? It wasn’t like anything would happen about it.

Still, as he walked, he couldn’t keep his mind off of how much yellow surprisingly fit Joel.

sorry it’s so long but I love them. Maybe expect more fanfic coming soon of Scar and Sausage???

-🌻

I’m…….im fucking speechless…..THIS IS SO GOOOODDDD RAMXKVKDKCMVMDMCN!!!!! Have you really read through my whole page???? Cuz all of this is too accurate.

Also also also!!!! HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS GONNA HAVE THE SPEAKERS CALL SCOTT STAR!!!!!???!?!!?!! while I was reading I was “WHOT!!! THEY’RE SPYING ON ME THEY’RE SPYING ON ME!!!

You also captured the Speakers’s personality perfectly!!!

The whole time I was reading I was both smiling uncontrollably and on the verge of tears thank you so much!!! I’m so excited to read more(if you make more that is no pressure)!!!!